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2 Touch'd with a sympathy within,

He knows our feeble frame ;
He knows what sore temptations mieang

For he endur'd the fame.
3 But spotless, innocent and pure,

The great Redeemer stood ; When Satan's fiery darts he bore,

And did refist to blood.
4 He in the days of feeble flesh

Pour'd out his cries and tears,
And in his measure feels afresh

What every Christian bears.
Ś He'll never quench the smoking flax,
But raise it to a fame

;
The bruiled reed he never breaks,

Nor scotns the meanest name. 6 Then let our humble faith address

His mercy and his power ; We shall obtain deliv'ring grace In the diftreffing hour.

Watts.

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Hymn CCXCIII. Common Metre. (* or b] ”

Repentance and Hope. ITH restless agitations tost, W "And low immers'd in woes, When thall my wild distemper'd thoughts A

Regain their loft repofe ? i Othou, the wretched's sure retreat, These torturing cares control,

C And with the cheerful smile of peace F

Revive my fainting foul.

3
Did ever thy paternal ear

The humble plea disdain ?
Or when did paintive misery ligh,

Or fupplicati mi vain ?
4 Oppress’d with grief and shame, dissolv'd

11 penitential tears, Thy goodness calms our restless doubts,

And dislipates our fears.
5 New life from thy refreshing grace

Our sinking hearts receive ;
For 'tis thy darling attribute

To pity and forgive.
6 From that bleft source, propitious hope

Appears serenely bright,
And sheds its soft diffusive beam

O'er forrow's dismal night.
7 My griefs confess its vital power,

And bless the friendly ray,
Which ushers in the glad ferene
Of everlasting day.

Mrs. CARTER.

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hymn CCXCIV. Long Metre. [X or b] Fesus Christ, the fume Yefierday, to Day, and Forever.

ITH wonder, Lord, our fouls proclaim

Th' immortal honours of thy name ; Affembled round our Saviour's throne,

We make his countless glories known.
? Ere Adam's clay with life was wari'd,

Or Gabriel's nobler fpirit formid;
Before creation was begun,
Before all ages, was the Son.

3 Through all succeeding ages, he

The same hath been, and still shall be ;
Immortal honours crown his head,

Though earth and skies wax old and fade. 4 The fame his power his flock to guard ;

The same his bounty to reward ;
The same his faithfulness and love

To faints on earth, and faints above.
5 Let nature change, and fink, and die,

Jesus shall raise his people high ;
And place them near his Father's throne,
In glory lafting as his own.

DopdridGE.

Hymn CCXCV. Common Metre. [*oib]

The Christian's Farewell.
E golden lamps of heaven, farewell,

, ,
With all

your

feeble Farewell, thou ever changing moon,

Pale empress of the night.
2 And thou, refulgent orb of day,

In brighter flames array'd j
My soul, that springs beyond thy sphete,

No more demands thy aid.
3 Ye stars are but the shining duft

Of my divine abode ;
The pavement of those heavenly courts,

Where I shall see my God. 4 The Father of eternal light.

Shall there his beams display;
Nor shall one moment's darkness mix

With that unvaried day.

5 No more the drops of piercing grief

Shall swell into my eyes ;.
Nor the meridian fun decline,

Amidst those brighter skies.
6 There all the millions of his saints

Shall in one song unite ;
And each the bliss of all shall view
With infinite delight.

DODDRIDGE,

Dymn CCXCVI. Com. Metre. [X or b]

Divine Goodness.
TE
Y

humble fouls, approach your God

With songs of sacred praise ;
For he is good, immensely good,

And kind are all his ways.
2 All nature owns his guardian care;

In him we live and move ;
But nobler benefits declare

The wonders of his love.
3. He gave his well beloved Son,

To save our souls from sin;
'Tis here he makes his goodness known,

And proves it all divine.
4 To this sure refuge, Lord, we come,

And here our hope relies ;
A fafe defence, a peaceful home,

When storms of trouble rise.
ş
Thine eye beholds, with kind regard,

The fouls who trust in thee;
Their humble hope thou wilt reward

With bliss divinely free.

6 Great God, to thy almighty love

What honours shall we raise ! Not all the raptur’d songs above Can render equal praise.

Mrs. STEELE.

Y

hymn CCXCVII. Long Metre. [X]

Blessed are the Poor in Spirit.
E humble souls, complain no more;

Let faith furvey your future store ;
How happy, how divinely blest,

The sacred words of truth atteft!
2 When conscious grief laments fincere,

And pours the penitential tear,
Hope points to your dejected eyes

A bright reverfion in the skies.
3 In vain the sons of wealth and pride

Despise your lot, your hopes deride;
In vain they boast their little stores ;

Trifles are theirs, a kingdom yours. 4 A kingdom of immenfe delight,

Where health and peace and joy unite
A kingdom which shall ne'er decay,

Though earthly kingdoms fade away.
S There shall your eyes with rapture view

The glorious Friend who dy'd for you ;
Who dy'd to ransom, dy'd to raise

To crowns of joy and songs of praise. 6 Jesus, to thee I breathe my prayer ;

Confirm to me my int'rest there ;
What: ver be my lot below,
This, this my soul desires to know.

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