2 Let thofe refufe to fing,
Who never knew our God;
But children of the heavenly King
May speak their joys abroad.
3 This heavenly King is ours,
Our Father and our Love;

He will fend down his heavenly powers,
To raise our fouls above.

4 There, we fhall fee his face,
And never, never fin ;

There, from the rivers of his
Drink endless pleasures in.

grace,

5 Yes, and before we rife
To that immortal state,
The thought of fuch amazing blifs
Should conftant joys create.

6 Then let our fongs abound,
And every tear be dry!

We're marching through Emanuel's ground, To fairer worlds on high.

WATTS.

Hymn XLVIII. Common Metre. [*]

CO

Christ the King of Saints.

OME, ye that love the Saviour's name,
And joy to make it known ;

The Sovereign of your heart proclaim,
And bow before his throne.

2 Behold your King, your Saviour, crown'd
With glories all divine;

And tell the wond'ring nations round,
How bright these glories fhine.

3 Infinite power and boundless love

In him unite their rays;

D

You that his heavenly influence prove,
Can you forbear his praife?
4 When in his earthly courts we view
The glories of our King,

We long to love as angels do,
And with like them to fing..

5 And fhall we long and wifh in vain ?
Lord, teach our fongs to rife;
Thy love can animate the train,
And bid it reach the fkies.

6 O happy period! glorious day!

When heaven and earth fhall raife, With all their powers, the raptur'd lay, To celebrate thy praise.

Mrs. STEELE,

Hymn XLIX. Common Metre. [*]

D

The happy End of the Chriflian Course.
EATH may diffolve my body now,
And bear my fpirit home;

Why do my minutes move fo flow,

Nor my falvation come?

2 With heav'nly weapons I have fought
The battles of the Lord;

Finish'd my courfe, and kept the faith,
And wait the fure reward.

3 God has laid up in heav'n for me,
A crown which cannot fade;

The righteous Judge, at that great day,
Shall place it on my head.

4 Nor hath the King of grace decreed
This prize for me alone;

But all who hope and long to see
Th' appearance of his Son.

5 Jefus, the Lord, fhall guard me fafe
From every ill defign;

And to his heavenly kingdom keep
This feeble foul of mine.

6 God is my everlasting aid,
My portion and my friend;
To him be higheft glory paid,
Through ages without end.

Hymn L.

D

WATTS, altered.

Long Metre.

Chrift the Physician of the Soul.

[b]

EEP are the wounds which fin has made;
Where fhall the finner find a cure?

In vain, alas, is Nature's aid,

The work exceeds her utmost power.
Sin, like a raging fever, reigns
With fatal ftrength in every part;
The dire contagion fills the veins,
And spreads its poifon to the heart.
3 But can no fov'reign balm be found?
And is no kind physician nigh,

To ease the pain, and heal the wound,
Ere life and hope forever fly?

4 Yes, there's a great Physician near;
Look
up, my fainting foul, and live!
See, in his heav'nly fmiles appear
Such help as nature cannot give !
5 See, in the Saviour's dying blood,
Life, health and blifs abundant flow!
'Tis only that dear facred flood
Can cafe thy pain and heal thy woe.
6 Sin throws in vain its pointed dart,
For here a fov'reign cure is found ;.
A cordial for the fainting heart,
A balm for every painful wound.

MIS. STAPLE

Hymn LI.

Long Metre.

The Sight of Chrift in Heaven.

[* or b]

DESCEND, ye hofts of angels bright,

And bear us on your guardian wings,
Through regions of celeftial light,
Above the reach of earthly things.
2 Beyond this curtain of the sky,
Up where eternal ages roll!
Where folid pleasures never die,
And fruits immortal feast the foul.
3. O for a beatific fight

Of our Almighty Father's throne!
There fits our Saviour, crown'd with light,
Cloth'd with a body like our own.

4 Adoring faints around him ftand,

And heav'nly powers before him fall; The God fhines gracious through the man, And sheds bright glories on them all. 5 What joys unfpeakable they feel! Whilft to their golden harps they sing; And echo from each heav'nly hill, The glorious triumphs of their King. 6 O may the happy day draw nigh, When we fhall rife to realms above; To join the mufic of the fky, And celebrate redeeming love.

WATTS, altered.

Pymn LII. Common Metre. [* or b]

DB

Ardent Love to Chrift.

O not I love thee, O my Lord?
Behold my heart and fee;

And turn each worthlefs idol cut,
That dares to rival thee.

2 Is not thy name melodious still To my enraptur'd ear?

3

Doth not my pulfe with pleasure beat,
My Saviour's voice to hear?

Haft thou a lamb in all thy flock

I would difdain to feed?
Haft thou a foe, before whose face
I fear thy caufe to plead ?
4 Would not my ardent spirit vie
With angels round thy throne,
To execute thy facred will,
And make thy glory known?
5 Would not my heart pour out its blood,
In honour of thy name?

And challenge the cold hand of death
To damp th' immortal flame ?

6 Thou know'ft I love thee, O my Lord;
But how I long to foar

Above the sphere of mortal joys,
And learn to love thee more!

Hymn LI. Long Metre.

Chriftian Privileges and Obligations.

DODDRIDGE.

[X or ]

OST thou my worthlefs name record,
Free of thy holy city, Lord?

Am I a finner, call'd to fhare

The precious privileges there?

2 Art thou my King, my Father styl'd?
And I thy fervant and thy child?
Whilft many of the human race
Are aliens from thy Zion's grace?
Lo, wretched millions draw their breath,
In lands of ignorance and death!
But I enjoy my fhare of time,
Within thy gofpel's favour'd clime.

3