a "Twould tear my soul asunder, Lord, With most tormenting fear.

p 4 What-to be banished for my life,
And yet forbid to die!

To linger in eternal pain,
Yet death forever fly!

a 5 Oh, wretched state of deep despair,
To see my God remove-
And fix my doleful station where
I must not taste his love!

6 [Jesus, I throw my arms around,
And hang upon thy breast;
Without a gracious smile from thee,
My spirit cannot rest.]

o 7 Oh! tell me that my worthless name
Is graven on thy hands;

Show me some promise in thy book,
Where my salvation stands.

8 [Give me one kind, assuring word,
To sink my fears again;

And cheerfully my soul shall wait
Her threescore years and ten.]

1

HYMN 108. C. M. St. Asaph's. [*]

Access to the Throne of Grace by a Mediator

Co

NOME, let us lift our joyful eyes
Up to the courts above;

And smile to see our Father there,
Upon a throne of love.

e 2 Once 'twas a seat of dreadful wrath,
And shot devouring flame;
Our God appeared consuming fire,
And Vengeance was his name.

-3 Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood,
That calmed his frowning face;
That sprinkled o'er his burning throne,
And turned the wrath to grace.

o 4 Now we may bow before his feet,
And venture near the Lord;

No fiery cherub guards his seat,
Nor double flaming sword.

-5 The peaceful gates of heavenly bliss
Are opened by the Son;

o High let us raise our notes of praise, And reach th' almighty throne.

s 6 To thee, ten thousand thanks we bring, Great Advocate on high;

And glory to th' eternal King,

Who lays his fury by.

HYMN 109. L. M.

Islington.

[b]

The Darkness of Providence.

ORD, we adore thy vast designs,

o Too deep to sound with mortal lines,—
Too dark to view with feeble sense.
e 2 Now thou array'st thine awful face
In angry frowns, without a smile :
-We, through the cloud, believe thy grace,
Secure of thy compassion still.

3 Through seas, and storms of deep distress,
We sail by faith, and not by sight,
Faith guides us in the wilderness,
Through all the briers and the night.
e 4 Dear Father, if thy lifted rod

Resolve to scourge us here below; -Still we must lean upon our God, o Thine arm shall bear us safely through.]

HYMN 110. S. M. Aylesbury. Kibworth. [*]

a 1

Death and the Resurrection.

ND must this body die?
This mortal frame decay?

a And must these active limbs of mine
Lie mouldering in the clay?

2 Corruption, earth, and worms,
Shall but refine this flesh;

o Till my triumphant spirit comes,
To put it on afresh.

3 God my Redeemer lives,

And often from the skies
Looks down and watches all my dust-
Till he shall bid it rise.

4 Arrayed in glorious grace,
Shall these vile bodies shine;
And every shape, and every face
Look heavenly and divine

5 These lively hopes we owe

To Jesus' dying love;
We would adore his grace below,
And sing his power above.

6 Dear Lord, accept the praise
Of these our humble songs;

• Till tunes of nobler sound we raise,
With our immortal tongues.

1

HYMN 111. C. M. Mitcham. [*]
God's Dominion, and our Deliverance.

ION, rejoice, and, Judah, sing;
Lord assumes his throne:

Come, let us own the heavenly King,
And make his glories known.

2 The great, the wicked, and the proud,
From their high seats are hurled;
Jehovah rides upon a cloud,

And thunders through the world.
3 He reigns upon th' eternal hills,
Distributes mortal crowns;
Empires are fixed beneath his smiles,
And totter at his frowns.

4 Navies, that rule the ocean wide,
Are vanquished by his breath:
And legions, armed with power and pride,
Descend to watery death.

5 Let tyrants make no more pretence
To vex our happy land;

Jehovah's name is our defence;

Our buckler is his hand.

6 Still may the King of Grace descend,
To rule us by his word;

And all the honours we can give
Be offered to the Lord.]

HYMN 112. L. M. Oporto. [*]

Angels ministering to Christ and Saints. 1G Hast thou advanced the Lord thy Son REAT God! to what a glorious height

Angels, in all their robes of light,

Are made the servants of his throne.

e 2 Before his feet thine armies wait,
o And swift as flames of fire they move,

-To manage his affairs of state,
In works of vengeance-and of love.

3 [His orders run through all the hosts;
Legions descend at his command,

To shield and guard our native coasts,
When foreign rage invades our land.]
o 4 Now they are sent to guide our feet
Up to the gates of thine abode;

Through all the dangers that we meet,
In travelling the heavenly road.

-5 Lord, when I leave this mortal ground,
And thou shalt bid me rise and come-
Send a beloved angel down,
Safe to conduct my spirit home.

HYMN 113. C. M. Mear. [*]

The same.

1 [THE majesty of Solomon, How glorious to behold!

The servants waiting round his throne,
'T'he ivory and the gold.

2 But, mighty God, thy palace shines
With far superior beams;
Thine angel-guards are swift as winds,
Thy ministers are flames.

3 (Soon as thine only Son had made
His entrance on the earth,
A shining army downward fled,

To celebrate his birth.

4 And when oppressed with pains and fears On the cold ground he lies,

Behold a heavenly form appears,

To allay his agonies.)

5 Now to the hands of Christ our King,
Are all their legions given;

They wait upon his saints, and bring
His chosen heirs to heaven.

6 Pleasure and praise run through their host, To see a sinner turn;

That Satan has a captive lost,

And Christ a subject born.

7 But there's an hour of brighter joy, When he his angel sends,

Obstinate rebels to destroy,

And gather in his friends.

8 Oh! could I say without a doubt,
There shall my soul be found,—
Then let the great archangel shout,
And the last trumpet sound.]

HYMN 114. C. M. Christmas. Sunday. [*]
Christ's Death, Victory, and Dominion.
1 SING my Saviour's wondrous death;
He conquered when he fell;

'Tis Finished! said his dying breath,
And shook the gates of hell.

2 'Tis Finished! our Emmanuel cries,
The dreadful work is done!
Hence shall his sovereign throne arise,
His kingdom is begun.

3 His cross a sure foundation laid,
For glory and renown;

When through the regions of the dead
He passed to reach the crown.

4 Exalted at his Father's side,
Sits our victorious Lord;

To heaven and hell his hands divide
The vengeance or reward.

5 The saints from his propitious eye
Await their several crowns;

And all the sons of darkness fly
The terror of his frowns.

HYMN 115. C. M.

C. M.

Bedford. [*]

God the Avenger of his Saints.

HIGH

IGH as the heavens above the ground,
Reigns the Creator God;

Wide as the whole creation's bound,
Extends his awful rod.

2 Let princes of exalted state

To him ascribe their crown; Render their homage at his feet, And cast their glories down.

e 3 Know that his kingdom is supreme;
Your lofty thoughts are vain:

He calls you gods, that awful name
But ye must die like men