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To the cold dungeon of the grave,
These dying, with'ring limbs of mine.
e 2 Let worms devour my wasting flesh,
And crumble all my bones to dust:

o My God shall raise my frame anew,
At the revival of the just.

s 3 Break, sacred morning, through the skies, -Bring that delightful-dreadful day;

o Cut short the hours, dear Lord, and come;
e Thy ling'ring wheels-how long they stay
4 [Our wearied spirits faint to see
The light of thy returning face;
And hear the language of those lips,
Where God has shed his richest grace.
o 5 Haste then upon the wings of love,
Rouse all the pious, sleeping clay;
That we may join in heavenly joys,
And sing the triumphs of the day.]

HYMN 103. C. M. St. Ann's. [*]
Christ's Commission. John iii, 16, 17.

OME, happy souls, approach your God,
With new melodious songs;

1[C With new

Come, tender to Almighty grace

The tributes of your tongues.

e 2 So strange, so boundless was the love, That pity'd dying men,

The Father sent his equal Son,

To give them life again.

-3 Thy hands, dear Jesus, were not arm'd With a revenging rod

No hard commission to perform

The vengeance of a God.

e 4 But all was mercy, all was mild, And wrath forsook the throne,

o When Christ on the kind errand came, And brought salvation down.

-5 Here, sinners, you may heal your wounds, And wipe your sorrows dry;

o Trust in the mighty Saviour's name, And you shall never die.

e 6 See, dearest Lord, our willing souls Accept thine offer'd grace ;

o We bless the great Redeemer's love, And give the Father praise.]

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HYMN 104. S. M. Peckham. [*]

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Christ's Mediation.

AISE your triumphant songs
To an immortal tune

o Let the wide earth resound the deeds,
Celestial grace has done.
Sing how Eternal Love

o 2

Its chief Beloved chose;
And bid him raise our ruin'd race,
From their abyss of woes.

-3 His hand no thunder bears,

No terrour clothes his brow; No bolts to drive our guilty souls To fiercer flames below.

e 4

'Twas mercy fill'd the throne,
And wrath stood silent by-

When Christ was sent with pardons down,
To rebels doom'd to die.

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Now, sinners, dry your tears,
Let hopeless sorrow cease;

d Bow to the sceptre of his love,
And take the offer'd peace.
Lord, we obey thy call;
We lay a humble claim

e 6

e 1

To the salvation thou hast brought;
And love and praise thy name.

HYMN 105. C. M. Reading. [b]

Repentance flowing from Divine Patience.:

AND are we wretches yet alive!

And do we yet rebel!
And

e 'Tis boundless-'tis amazing love,-
That bears us up from hell!

2 The burden of our weighty guilt
Would sink us down to flames;

And threat'ning vengeance rolls above,
To crush our feeble frames.

d 3 Almighty goodness cries-Forbear!
And strait the thunder stays:

e And dare we now provoke his wrath, And weary out his grace?

p 4 Lord, we have long abus'd thy love,
Too long indulg'd our sin;
Our aching hearts e'en bleed to see
What rebels we have been.

o 5 No more, ye lusts, shall ye command;
No more will we obey;

Stretch out, O God, thy conqu'ring hand,
And drive thy foes away.

HYMN 106. C. M. Isle of Wight. Bangor. [b]

Repentance at the Cross.

p 1 OH, if my soul was form'd for wo,
Ο How would I vent my sighs!

Repentance should like rivers flow,
From both my streaming eyes.

2 'Twas for my sins, my dearest Lord
Hung on the cursed tree,

And groan'd away a dying life,

For thee, my soul, for thee.

-3 Oh, how I hate these lusts of mine, That crucify'd my God;

Those sins, that pierc'd and nail'd his flesh, Fast to the fatal wood.

d 4 Yes, my Redeemer, they shall die!
My heart has so decreed;

Nor will I spare the guilty things,
That made my Saviour bleed.

e 5 Whilst with a melting, broken heart,
My murder'd Lord I view,

o I'll raise revenge against my sins, And slay the murd'rers too.

1TH

HYMN 107. C. M. Windsor. [*]
Everlasting Absence of God intolerable.
HAT awful day will surely come,
Th' appointed hour makes haste-
When I must stand before my Judge,
And pass the solemn test.

e 2 Thou lovely chief of all my joys,
Thou Sovereign of my heart,
How could I bear to hear thy voice
Pronounce the sound, Depart!
e 3 The thunder of that dismal word
Would so distress my ear,

d

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

p 4 What to be banish'd for my life,
And yet forbid to die!

To linger in eternal pain,
Yet death for ever 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;

Shew 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.]

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

Access to the Throne of Grace by a Mediator.

1 COME, 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 appear'd consuming fire,
And Vengeance was his name.
3 Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood,
That calm'd his frowning face;
That sprinkled o'er his burning throne,
And turn'd 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 open'd 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]

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The darkness of Providence.

ORD, we adore thy vast designs,
Th' obscure abyss of Providence!
p 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.

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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. [*1

Death and the Resurrection.

a 1 AND must this body die?

This mortal frame decay?

a And must these active limbs of mine
Lie mould'ring in the clay?
Corruption, earth, and worms,
Shall but refine this flesh;

-2

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.

0 4

Array'd in glorious grace, Shall these vile bodies shine; And ev'ry shape, and ev'ry face, Look heavenly and divine.

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