And ftill to drive my wants away, 3 Perpetual bleffings from above, But O how few returns of love, 4 What have I done for him that dy'd, 5 Lord, with this guilty heart of mine, To thy dear cross I flee; And to thy hand my foul refign, To be preferv'd by thee. 6 Sprinkled afresh with pard'ning blood, I lay me down to reft; As in th' embraces of my God, Or on my Saviour's breast. CXXIII An Hymn for Morning or Evening. 'H OSANNA with a chearful found, Ten thousand snares attend us round, 2 That was a moft amazing pow'r, That rais'd us with a word; And And ev'ry day, and ev'ry hour, 3 The ev❜ning refts our weary head, 4 The rifing morning can't affure, 5 Our breath is forfeited by fin, 6 God is our fun, whose daily light, CXXIV. I Godly forrow arifing from the fufferings of Chrift. A LAS and did my Saviour bleed! And did my fov❜reign die ? Would he devote that facred head, For fuch a worm as I ? 2 Thy body flain, fweet Jefus thine, And bath'd in it's own blood, While all expos'd to wrath divine, 3 Was it for crimes that I had done, 4 Well might the fun in darkness hide, When God the mighty maker dy'd, 5 Thus might I hide my blushing face, 6 But drops of grief can ne'er repay, CXXV. Chrift the Subftance of the Levitical Priefthood. I T HE true Meffiah now appears, ¡.. So fly the shadows and the stars, Before the rifing dawn. 2 No fmoaking fweets, nor bleeding lambs, Nor kid, nor bullock flain: Incense and spice of ceftly names, 3 Aaron muft lay his robes away, When God himself comes down to be 4 He took our mortal flesh, to fhew For us he paid his life below, And prays for us above. 5 "Father," he crys, 66 forgive their fins,"" "For I myself have dy'd" And then he fhews his open'd veins, CXXVI. The Creation, Prefer vation, Diffolution, and Reftoration of the World. 'S ING to the Lord, that built the skies, The Lord that rear'd this stately frame : Let all the nations found his praise, And lands unknown repeat his name. 2 He form'd the feas, and form'd the hills, Nature and time with all their wheels, 3 Now 3 Now from the high imperial throne, He looks far down upon the spheres ; He bids the fhining orbs rolls on, And round he turns the hafty years. 4 Thus fhall this moving engine last, 5 Yet when the sound shall tear the skies, CXXVII, The Lord's Day: W ELCOME fweet day of reft, 2 The king himself comes near, 3 One day amidst the place, Or, |