4

In vain the ftone, the watch, the feal Forbid an early rife

To him, who breaks the gates of hell, And opens paradise.

HYMN 110. P. M.

ALL is hufh'd, the battle's o'er !
Darkness reigns in purple gore;
Each intelligence intent

Trembling waits the great event.
All are in fufpenfe

Here I'll ftay, nor wander hence
'Till the day fpring from on high
Speaks, who gain'd the victory.

2

See, a gleam of light appears!
Combats now my hope and fears;
Now the heav'nly glory's come;
O! who starts from yonder tomb,,
Cover'd all with blood,

Pale and wounded? 'Tis my God!
'Tis the man, who conqu'ring fell,
Dying, vanquifh'd death and hell!

3

Heav'nly laurels crown his head!
Sin, and hell, and death are dead;
The old ferpent's head is broke ;
Heav'n by violence is took..
Hail! thou conqu❜ring heart ;
Thou my new creation art:

Hail! my flesh, and bone and blood;;
Hail! myself, redeem'd to God.

With him, where, and as he is,
Fully enter'd into blifs:
There fhall I abide,

In my nature purify'd:
Here I enter perfect reft:

The Father's praife, his King and Priest.

HYMN HII. P. M.

CHRIST the Lord is ris'n to day,
Sons of men and angels fay,

Raife your joys and triumphs high,
Sing, ye Heav'ns, and earth reply.

2

Love's redeeming work is done,
Fought the fight, the battle's won
Lo! the fun's eclipfe is o'er,
Lo! he fets in blood no more.

3

Vain the ftone, the watch, the feal,
Chrift hath burft the gates of hell
Death in vain forbids his rife,
Chrift hath open'd paradife.

4

Lives again our glorious King; "Where, O death, is now thy fting?" Once he dy'd our fouls to fave; "Where's thy vict'ry, boafting grave?"

5

Soar we now where Chrift has led,
Following our exalted Head:
Made like him, like him we rife,
Ours the cross, the grave, the fkies..
6

What though once we perifh'd all,
Partners of our parents' fall;

Second life we now receive,
In our heav'nly Adam live.

7

Hail the Lord of earth and heav'n!
Praise to thee by both be giv'n!
Thee, we greet triumphant now,
Hail! the Refurrection----Thou.

HYMN 112. C. M.

PART FIRST.

AGAIN the Lord of life and light

Awakes the kindling ray; Unfeals the eyelids of the morn, And pours increafing day.

2

O what a night was that, which wrapp'd'
The heathen world in gloom!
O what a Sun which broke this day,
Triumphant from the tomb !

3

This day be grateful homage paid,
And loud hofannas fung;
Let gladnefs dwell in ev'ry heart,
And praife on ev'ry tongue.

4

Ten thoufand diff'ring lips fhall join
To hail this welcome morn,
Which fcatter'd bleffings from its wings,
To nations yet unborn.

5

Jefus, the Friend of human kind,
With strong compaffion mov'd,
Defcended, like a pitying God,
To fave the fouls he lov'd..

6

The pow'rs of darknefs leagu'd in vain
To bind his foul in death;

He fhook their kingdom when he fell,
With his expiring breath.

PART SECOND.

7

Our Saviour's conqu❜ring chariot wheels Afcend the lofty skies;

While broke, beneath his pow'rful cross, Death's iron fceptre lies.

8

Exalted high at God's right hand,
And Lord of all below,

Through him is pard'ning love dispens'd,
And boundless bleffings flow.

9

And ftill for erring, guilty man,
A brother's pity flows;

And ftill his bleeding heart is touch'd
With mem❜ry of our woes.

ΙΟ

To thee, my Saviour, and my King,
Glad homage let me give;
And ftand prepar'd like thee to die,
With thee that I may live.

IN

HYMN 113. L. M.

Jefus who was crucify'd

Alone we glory and confide;

Let ev'ry tongue with joy confefs,
The Lord our ftrength and righteousness,

2

For us redemption to obtain,

The fpotlefs Lamb of God was flain;

Saints triumph in his glorious name,
Who by his death our foes o'ercame.

3

To banish all our griefs and fears,
For us the great High Priest appears;
Jefus that fuffer'd in our ftead,
For ever lives our cause to plead.
4

Behold, enthron'd at God's right hand,
Our powerful Interceffor ftand!
The Father's reconciled face

Our joyful fouls with rapture trace.

HYMN 114. C. M.

HOSANNA

OSANNA to the Prince of light,
That cloth'd himself in clay;
Enter'd the iron gates of death,
And tore the bars away.

2

Death is no more the king of dread,
Since our Immanuel rofe;
He took the tyrant's fting away,
And spoil'd our hellish foes.

3

Raife your devotion, mortal tongues,
To reach his blefs'd abode ;
Sweet be the accents of your fongs
To our incarnate God.

4

Bright angels, ftrike your loudeft strings, Your sweetest voices raise

;

Let heav'n, and all created things
Sound our Immanuel's praise.