Changes the heart, renews the mind,
And forms the man afrefh.
Our quick'ned fouls awake, and rife
From the long fleep of death;
To heavenly things we turn our eyes,
And praise employs our breath.
7 The fins and follies of our mind
Are crucify'd and dead ;
By holy love our fouls are join'd
To Chrift our living Head.
NVEIL thy bofom, faithful tomb,
U Take this new treafure to thy trust ;
And give thefe facred relicks room
To flumber in thy filent duft.
2 No pain, no grief, no anxious fear
Invade thy bounds; no mortal woes
Can reach the peaceful fleeper here,
Whilft angels watch its foft repofe.
So Jefus flept; God's dying Son
Paft through the grave and bleft the bed;
Then reft, dear faint, till from his throne
The morning break, and pierce the shade.
4 Break from his throne, illuftrious morn!
Attend, O grave, his fov'reign word!
Reftore thy truft; the glorious form
Will then arife to meet the Lord.
Hymn CCLXVI. Common Metre. [*]
Gratitude for divine Mercies. Part I.
HEN all thy mercies, O my God,
W My rifing foul furveys,
Tranfported with the view, I'm loft
In wonder, love and praife.
2 Thy providence my life fuftain'd,
And all my wants redrefs'd,
When in the filent womb I lay,
Or hung upon the breaft.
3 To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,
Er'e yet my feeble thoughts had learn'd
To form themselves in prayer.
4 Unnumber'd comforts on my foul
Thy tender care bestow'd;
Before my infant heart conceiv'd
From whom thofe comforts flow'd.
When in the flipp'ry paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
Thine arm unfeen convey'd me fafe,
And led me up to man.
6 Through hidden dangers, toils and death,
It gently clear'd my way;
And through the pleafing fcenes of vice
Where thousands go aftray.
Hymn CCLXVII. Common Metre, [*
Gratitude for divine Mercies. Part II.
HEN pale with ficknefs, oft haft thou
With health renew'd my face ;
And when in fin and forrow funk,
Reviy'd my foul with grace.
That he could give his life
And take his life again.
4 His cross a fure foundation laid For glory and renown;
When through the regions of the dead
He pafs'd, to reach the crown.
5 Exalted at his Father's fide,
Sits our victorious Lord;
His faints from finners to divide,
To punish or reward.
6 Live, glorious Lord, and reign above,
And every tongue fhall fing
The riches of eternal love,
The conqueft of our King.
Hymn CCLXV. Com. Metre. [orb]
Refignation in Death.
HAT cannot resignation do?
WH It wonders can perform;
That powerful charm, "Thy will be done," Can lay the loudest storm. 2 Hafte, then, O refignation, hafte, 'Tis thine to reconcile
The mind to death; at thy approach
The monfter wears a fmile.
3 What fight beneath the arch of heaven
Has moft of heaven to boaft?
The dying faint, refign'd, ferene,
And giving up the ghost.
4 O for that fummit of my wifh,
Whilft yet I draw my breath,
That foretafte of eternal life,
A glorious fmile in death!
Gratitude for divine Mercies. Part I.
WHEN all thy mercies, O my God,
My rifing foul furveys,
Tranfported with the view, I'm loft
In wonder, love and praife.
2 Thy providence my life fuftain'd,
And all my wants redrefs'd,
When in the filent womb I lay,
Or hung upon the breaft.
weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,
Er'e yet my feeble thoughts had learn'd
To form themselves in prayer,
4 Unnumber'd comforts on my foul
Thy tender care beftow'd;
Before my infant heart conceiv'd
From whom thofe comforts flow'd.
When in the flipp'ry paths of youth
With heedlefs fteps I ran,
Thine arm unfeen convey'd me fafe,
And led me up to man.
6 Through hidden dangers, toils and death,
It gently clear'd my way;
And through the pleafing fcenes of vice
Where thoufands go aftray.
Hymn CCLXVII. Common Metre, [*]
Gratitude for divine Mercies, Part II.
HEN pale with fickness, oft haft thou
With health renew'd my face;
And when in fin and forrow funk,
Reviv'd my foul with grace.
2 Thy bounteous hand with worldly good
Has made my cup run o'er;
And in a kind and faithful friend
Haft doubled all my store.
Ten thoufand thoufand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ ;
Nor is the least a cheerful heart,
That taftes thofe gifts with joy.
Through ev'ry period of my life,
Thy goodness I'll purfue;
And after death, in diftant worlds,
The glorious theme renew.
When nature fails, and day and night
Divide the time no more,
My ever grateful heart, O Lord,
Thy mercy fhall adore.
¡ Through all eternity to thee
A joyful fong I'll raife;
For O, eternity's too short
To utter all thy praife.
Hymn CCLXVIII. Common Metre. [*]
HEN verdure clothes the fertile vale,
And bloffoms deck the fpray;
And fragrance breathes in every gale,
How fweet the vernal day!
2 Hark, how the feather'd warblers fing!
'Tis nature's cheerful voice;
Soft mufic hails the lovely fpring,
And woods and fields rejoice.
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