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2 Touch'd with a sympathy within,
He knows our feeble frame;
He knows what fore temptations mean,
For he endur'd the fame.

3 But fpotlefs, innocent and pure,
The great Redeemer stood;
When Satan's fiery darts he bore,
And did refift to blood.

4 He in the days of feeble flesh
Pour'd out his cries and tears;
And in his meafure feels afresh
What every Chriftian bears.

5 He'll never quench the smoking flax,
But raise it to a flame;

The bruised reed he never breaks,
Nor fcorns the meaneft name.

Then let our humble faith addrefs
His mercy and his power;
We fhall obtain deliv'ring grace
In the diftreffing hour.

WATTS.

Hymn CCXCIII. Common Metre. [* or b]

Repentance and Hope.

WITH restless agitations toft,

And low immers'd in woes,.

When fhall my wild diftemper'd thoughts
Regain their loft repofe?

2 O thou, the wretched's fure retreat,
Thefe torturing cares control

And with the cheerful fmile of peace
Revive my fainting foul.

3 Did ever thy paternal ear
The humble plea difdain?

Or when did plaintive mifery figh,
Or fupplicate in vain ?

4 Opprefs'd with grief and fhame, diffolv'd
In penitential tears,

Thy goodness calms our restless doubts,
And diffipates our fears.

;

5 New life from thy refreshing grace
Our finking hearts receive
For 'tis thy darling attribute
To pity and forgive.

6 From that bleft fource, propitious hope
Appears ferenely bright,

And fheds its foft diffufive beam
O'er forrow's difmal night.

7 My griefs confefs its vital power,
And blefs the friendly ray,
Which ufhers in the glad ferenę
Of everlafting day.

Mrs. CARTER.

Hymn CCXCIV. Long Metre. [or b]

Fefus Chrift, the fume Yefierday, to Day, and Forever.

WT

ITH wonder, Lord, our fouls proclaim Th' immortal honours of thy name; Affembled round our Saviour's throne, We make his countlefs glories known. 2 Ere Adam's clay with life was warm'd, Or Gabriel's nobler fpirit form'd; Before creation was begun, Before all ages, was the SoN.

3 Through all fucceeding ages, he
The fame 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 fame his bounty to reward;

The fame his faithfulnefs and love
To faints on earth, and faints above.
5 Let nature change, and fink, and die,
Jefus fhall raife his people high;

And place them near his Father's throne,
In glory lafting as his own:

DODDRIDGE.

Hymn CCXCV. Common Metre. [*oib]

YE

The Chriftian's Farewell.

E golden lamps of heaven, farewell, With all your feeble light; Farewell, thou ever changing moon, Pale emprefs of the night.

2 And thou, refulgent orb of day,
In brighter flames array'd;

My foul, that fprings beyond thy sphere,
No more demands thy aid.

3 Ye ftars are but the fhining duft
Of my divine abode ;

The pavement of thofe heavenly courts,
Where I fhall fee my God.

4 The Father of eternal light.

Shall there his beams difplay;

Nor fhall one moment's darkness mix
With that unvaried day.

5 No more the drops of piercing grief
Shall fwell into my eyes;
Nor the meridian fun decline,
Amidft those brighter fkies..

6 There all the millions of his faints
Shall in one fong unite;

And each the blifs of all fhall view

With infinite delight.

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Hymn CCXCVI. Com. Metre. [* ar b]

Divine Goodness.

E humble fouls, approach your God
With fongs of facred praife;

For he is good, immenfely 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 fave our fouls from fin;
"Tis here he makes his goodness known,
And proves it all divine.

4 To this fure refuge, Lord, we come,
And here our hope relies;

A fafe defence, a peaceful home,
When ftorms of trouble rife.

Thine eye beholds, with kind regard,
The fouls who truft in thee;
Their humble hope thou wilt reward
With blifs divinely free.

6 Great God, to thy almighty love
What honours fhall we raife!
Not all the raptur'd fongs above
Can render equal praife.

Mrs. STEELE.

Hymn CCXCVII. Long Metre. [*]

YE

Bleed are the Poor in Spirit.

E humble fouls, complain no more;
Let faith furvey your future ftore;
How happy, how divinely bleft,

The facred words of truth atteft!
2 When confcious grief laments fincere,
And pours the penitential tear,
Hope points to your dejected eyes
A bright reverfion in the fkies.
3 In vain the fons of wealth and pride
Defpife your lot, your hopes deride;
In vain they boaft their little ftores;
Trifles are theirs, a kingdom yours.
4 A kingdom of immenfe delight,
Where health and peace and joy unite
A kingdom which fhall ne'er decay,
Though earthly kingdoms fade away.
5 There fhall your eyes with rapture view
The glorious Friend who dy'd for you;
Who dy'd to ranfom, dy'd to raise
To crowns of joy and fongs of praise.
6 Jefus, to thee I breathe my prayer;
Confirm to me my int'reft there;
Whatever be my lot below,
This, this my foul defires to know.

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