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5 A fecond cries, " The claim forbear, Lo! I'm the greatest wonder here; For I, of all the race that fell, Deferves the loweft place in hell!", 6 Another rifes by his fide,

As fond to praife, and free of pride, Cries, "All give place, for I defy You all fhould owe fuch thanks as I." 7 What, will no rival finger yield: He hath an equal in the field? Come then, and let us all agree To praise upon the highest key.

A DIALOGUE,

HYMN CCxix.

MEN...

TELL us, O women, we would know

Whither fo falt ye move!
WOMEN.

We call'd to leave the world below,

Are feeking one above.

MEN.

Whence come ye, fav, and what the place
That ye are trav'lling from?
WOMEN.

From tribulation-we, through grace,
Are now returning home.
MEN.

Is not your native dwelling here!
Like you not this abode ?
WOMEN.

We seek a better country far,
A city built by God.

MEN.

Thither we travel, nor intend
Short of that blifs to reft;
WOMEN.

Nor we, till in the finner's Friend
Our weary fouls are blest.

CHOR US.

Friends of the Bridegroom we shall reignz
Saviour, we afk no more:

Hail! Lamb of God, for finners flain,
Whom beat'n and earth adore.

I

2

3

BIRTH-DAY.

HYMN CCXX;"

GOD of my life, to thee
My cheerful foul I raise;
Thy goodnefs bade me be,
And ftill prolongs my days:
I fee my natal hour return,
And blefs the day that I was born.

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A clod of living earth,

I glorify thy name,

From whom alone my birth
And all my bleffings came :
Creating and preferving grace
Let all that is within me praife.

Long as I live beneath,

To thee, O let me live;
To thee my every breath

In thanks and praises give!

Whate'er I have, whate'er I am,
Shall magnify my Maker's name.

4

5

I

My foul and all its pow'rs,
Thine, wholly thine fhall be;
All, all my happy hours

I confecrate to thee:

Me to thine image now reftore,
And I fhall praise thee evermore.

I wait thy will to do,

As angels do in heav'n;
In Chrift a creature new,
Eternally forgiv'n :

I wait thy perfect will to prove,
All fanctify'd by finless love.

Then when the work is done,
The work of faith with pow'r,
Receive thy favour'd fon

In death's triumphant hour;
Like Mofes to thyself convey,
And kifs my raptur'd soul away.

HYMN CCXXI.

AWAY with our fears,

The glad morning appears,

When an heir of falvation was born? From Jehovah I came,

For his glory I am,

And to him I with finging return.

2

Thee, Jefus, alone,

The fountain I own

Of my life and felicity here:

And cheerfully fing

My Redeemer and King,

Till his figns in the heavens appear.

3

With thanks I rejoice

In thy fatherly choice

Of my ftate and condition below:

If of parents I came
Who honour'd thy name,

'Twas thy wisdom appointed it fo.

4 I fing of thy grace

From my earliest days,

Ever near to allure and defend;
Hitherto thou hast been

My preferver from fin,

And I trust thou wilt fave to the end.

5 O the infinite cares

And temptations and fnares Thy hand hath conducted me through! O the bleffings bestow'd

By a bountiful God, And the mercies eternally new! 6 What a mercy is this,

What a heaven of blifs, How unfpeakable happy am I! Gather'd into the fold,,

With thy people enroll'd,

With thy people to live and to die!
7 O the goodness of God
In employing a clod
His tribute of glory to raife!
His ftandard to bear,

And with triumph declare

His unfpeakable riches of grace!

8

O the fathomless love,

That has deign'd to approve

And profper the work of my hands!
With my paftoral crook

I went over the brook,

And, behold! I am fpread into bands!

R

9

Who? I ask in amaze,
Hath begotten me these!

And inquire, from what quarter they came?
My full heart it replies,

They are born from the skies,

And give glory to God and the Lamb.
ΤΟ All honour and praife

To the Father of grace,
To the Spirit, and Son I return!
The bufinefs pursue

He hath made me to do,
And rejoice that I ever was born.
II In a rapture of joy
My life I employ,

The God of my life to proclaim :
'Tis worth living for this,

To adminifter blifs
And falvation in Jesus's name.

12 My remnant of days

I fpend in his praife,

Who died the whole world to redeem :
Be they many or few,

My days are his due,
And they all are devoted to him!

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BACKSLIDER.

HYMN. CCXXII.

PART THE FIRST.

How happy are they

Who the Saviour obey,

And have laid up their treasure above!
Tongue cannot exprefs

The fweet comfort and peace

Of a foul in its earlieft love.

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