CXVII.

Chrift's

Humiliation

and Exaltation. Rev. v. 12.

W

HAT equal honours fhall we bring,

To thee O Lord, our God, the Lamb,

When all the notes that angels fing,

Are far inferior to thy name?

2 Worthy is he that once was flain,

The prince of peace that groan'd and dy'd,
Worthy to rife, and live, and reign,
At his Almighty Father's fide.

3 Pow'r and dominion are his due,
Who stood condemn'd at Pilate's bar:
Wisdom belongs to Jefus too,

Tho' he was charg'd with madness here.

4 All riches are his native right. Yet he fuftain'd amazing lofs;

To him afcribe eternal might,

5

Who left his weakness on the cross.

Honour immortal must be paid,?
Inftead of fcandal and of fcorn;
While glory fhines around his head,
And a bright crown without a thorn.

6 Bleffings for ever on the Lamb,

Who bore the curfe for wretched men.
Let angels found his facred name,
And ev'ry creature fay, AMEN.:

CXVII.

CXVIII. The Names and Titles of Chrift, from feveral Scriptures.

I

'TIS from the treasures of his word,

I borrow titles for my Lord;
Nor art, nor nature, can supply'
Sufficient forms of majesty.

2 Bright image of the Father's face,
Shining with undiminish'd rays;
Th' Eternal God's beloved Son,
The heir and partner of his throne.

3 The King of kings, the Lord most high,
Writes his own name upon
his thigh:

4

He wears a garment dipc in blood.
And breaks the nations with his rod.

Where grace can neither melt nor move,
The Lamb refents his injur'd love,

Awakes his wrath without delay,
And Judah's lion tears the prey.

5 But when for works of peace he comes,
What winning titles he assumes !
Light of the world, and life of men ;
Nor bears thofe characters in vain.

6 With tender in his heart,

He acts the mediator's part;

A friend and brother he appears,
And well fulfils the names he wears.

7. At length the judge his throne afcends,
Divides the rebels from his friends;
And faints in full fruition prove,
His rich variety of love.

CXIX. Salvation in the Grofs.

'H

ERE at thy crofs, my dying God,
I lay my foul beneath thy love;
Beneath the droppings of thy blood,
Jefus, nor fhall it e'er remove.

2 Not all the tyrants think or fay,
With rage and light'ning in their eyes;
Nor hell fhall fright my heart away,
Should hell with all its legions rise.

3

Should worlds confpire to drive me thence,
Move'efs and firm this heart fhould lie :

Refolv'd (for that's my last defence)

If I muft perish there to die.

4 But fhall I, Lord, indulge my fear?
Am I not fafe beneath thy fhade?
Thy vengeance will not ftrike me here,
Nor fatan dares my foul invade.

5 Yes, I'm fecure beneath thy blood,
And all my foes fhall lofe their aim ;
Hofanna to my dying God,

And my best honours to his name.

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CXX.

'L°

Longing to praise Christ

better.

ORD, when my thoughts with wonder roll,
O'er the sharp forrows of thy foul,

And read my maker's broken laws,
Repair'd and honour'd by thy crufs.

2 When I behold death, hell, and sin,
Vanquish'd by that dear blood of thine;
And fee the man that groan'd and dy'd,
Sit glorious by his Father's fide.

3 My paffions rife and foar above,

I'm wing'd with faith, and fir'd with love;
Fain would I reach eternal things,
And learn the notes that Gabriel fings.

4 Well, the kind minute muft appear,
When we shall leave thefe bodies here,
Thefe clogs of clay; and mount on high,
To join the fongs above the fky.

CXXI.

A Morning Song.

ONCE more, my foul, the rifing day

Salutes thy waking eyes;

Once more, my voice, thy tribute pay,
To him that rolls the skies.

2 Night unto night, his name repeats ; The day renews the found;

Wide as the heav'n on which he fits,
To turn the seasons round.

3

'Tis he supports my mortal frame;
My tongue shall speak his praise ;

My fins would ronze his wrath to flame,
And yet his wrath delays..

4 On a poor worm thy pow'r might tread,.
And I could ne'er withstand;

Thy juftice might have crufh'd me dead,
But mercy held thy hand.

A thousand wretched fouls are fled,
Since the last setting fun;

And yet thou length'neft out my thread,
And yet my moments run.

6 Dear God, let all my hours be thine,
Whilft I enjoy the light;

Then fhall my fun in files decline,
And bring a pleasant night.

CXXII.

An Evening Song.

READ fov'reign let my ev'ning song,
Like holy incense rise ;

Affift the offerings of my tongue,

To reach the lofty skies.

2 Through all the dangers of the day, Thy hand was ftill my guard;

K 2

And

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