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The Gospel Trumpet hear,

The News of heav'nly Grace ; Ye happy Souls draw near,

Behold your Saviour's Face ; Tlie Year of Jubilee is coine, Return to your eternal Home! Jesus our great High Priest

Hath full Atonement made ;
Ye weary Spirits rest,

Ye mourning Souls be glad !
The Year of Jubilee is come,
Return, ye ransom'd Sinners, Home!

Extol the Lamb of God,

The all-atoning Lamb ; Redemption in his Blood

Throughout the World proclaim, The Year of Jubilee is come, Return to your eternal Hoine !

HYMN LXXXV. They shall look on me whom they have

pierced, and mourn.--Zach. xii. 10. L ,

And view your bleeding Sacrifice; Each purple Drop proclaims there's Roomy And bids the Poor and Needy come! Bencath your Crimes the Vi&tim ftood; Sign'd your Acquittances in Blood; Hereby ftern Justice is appeas’d; Sinners, look up, and be releas'd !

Mercy, Truth, Peace and Righteoufness,
Beam from the Reconciler's Face;
Here look, 'till Love diffolve your Heart,
And bid your flavith Fears depart.
Oh ! quit the World's delufive Charms,
And quickly fly to Jesu's Arms;
Wrestle until your God is known,
Till you can call the Lord your own,




EFORE Jehoval's awful Throne,

Ye Nations bow with sacred Joy, Know that the Lord is God alone,

He can create, and he destroy!

His sov'reign Power, without our Aid,

Made us of Clay, and form'd us Men; And when like wand'ring Sheep we stray'd,

He brought us to his Fold again! We'll croud thy Gates with thankful Songs,

High as the Heav’ns, our Voices raise ; And Earth with her ten thousand Tongues,

Shall fill thy Courts with sounding Praise.

Wide as the World is thy Command;

Vast as Eternity thy Love!
Firm as a Rock thy Truth muft ftand,

When rolling Years fhall cease to rove!

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Isaiah lv. 1. &c. 0! every one that thirsts, draw nigh,

('Tis God invites the fallen Race) Mercy, and free Salvation buy,

Buy Wine, and Milk, and Gospel Grace. Come to the living Waters, come,

Sinners obey your Maker's Call, Return, ye weary Wand'rers Home,

And find iny Grace reach'd out to all, See, from the Rock a Fountain rife,

For you in healing Streams it rolls, Money ye need not bring, nor Price,

Ye lab’ring, burden'd, fin-fick Souls ! Nothing ye in Exchange shall give,

Leave all you have, and are, behind, Frankly the Gift of God receive

Pardon and Peace in Jesus find.

H Y M N LXXXVIII. A Prospect of Heaven makes Death easy.

HERE is a Land of pure Delight, TH

Where Saints immortal reign ; Infinite Day excludes the Night,

And Pleasure banish Pain.

There everlasting Springs abides,

And never with’ring Flow'rs ;

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Death, like a narrow Sea, divides

This heav'nly Land from ours.
Sweet Fields beyond the swelling Flood,

Stand dressd in living Green,
So to the Jews old Canaan stood

While Jordan roll'd between.

But tim'rous Mortals ftart and shrink,

To cross this narrow Sea,
And linger, fhiv'ring on the Brink,

Afraid to launch away.

Oh! could we make our Doubts remove,

Those gloomy Doubts that rise, And see the Canaan that we love

With unbeclouded Eyes.

Could we but climb, where Moses, stood,

And view the Landskip o'er, Not Jordan's Stream, nor Death's cold Flood,

Should fright us from the Shore.

HY MN LXXXIX. The supposed Song of a Soul just

entered Heaven. WA

HY was unbelieving 1,

Trembling 10 afraid to die !
Now my Feet in Safety stand,
Here within the promis'd Land,


o what wond'rous Grace is here! Now I'ın safe from ev'ry Fear,

Sin and Doubts are ever gone,
Sighing shall no more be known.


Henceforth, neither Grief nor Pain,
Here successive Pleasures reign;
All Things our Hosannahs raise,
O the Glories of this place!


O ye perfect happy Ones,
Let me try to join your

Come let us exalt the Lamb,
Singing ever to his Naine,


He our full Redemption wrougit,
He for us this Glory bought,
From the Earth he calls us Home,
To our Father's House we're come.


Oft in Kedar's Tents I try'd,
When my God his Face did hide,
With my Friends to raise this Song,
But it languish'd on my Tongue.

Jesus now unveils his Face;
Here I shout of Sov'reign Grace
Filld with Love incessant cry
To his Praise in Raptures high.


O my drooping Friends below,
Did you halt this Glory know,

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