Hymn XCIII. Particular Metre. [*]
AIL, thou once defpifed Jefus !
Thou didst free falvation bring;
By thy death thou didft release us
From the tyrant's deadly fting.
2 Hail, thou agonizing Saviour,
Bearer of our fin and fhame!
By thy merits we find favour,
Life is given through thy name.
3 Pafchal Lamb, by God appointed,
All our fins on thee were laid;
Great High Priest by God anointed,
Thou haft full atonement made!
4 Contrite finners are forgiven,
Through the virtue of thy blood;
Open'd is the gate of heaven,
Peace is made with man and God.
5 Jefus hail! enthron'd in glory,
There forever to abide;
All the heavenly hofts adore thee,
Seated at thy Father's fide.
6 There for finners thou art pleading,
There thou doft our place prepare ;
Ever for us interceding,
Till in heaven we appear.
7 Glory, honour, power and blessing,
Thou art worthy to receive;
Loudeft praises, without ceafing,
Meet it is for us to give.
8 Help, ye bright angelic fpirits,
Lend your loudeft, nobleft lays;
Join to fing our Saviour's merits,
And to celebrate his praise.
Hymn XCIV. Common Metre. [ or b]
APPY is he, whofe early years
Receive instruction well;
Who hates the finner's path, and fears
The road that leads to hell.
2 Our youth, devoted to the Lord,
Is pleafing in his eyes;
A flower when offer'd in the bud
Is no vain facrifice.
3 'Tis eafier work, if we begin
To fear the Lord betimes;
While finners, who grow old in fin,
Are harden'd in their crimes.
4 It faves us from a thousand fears,
To mind religion young;
With joy it crowns fucceeding years,
And renders virtue strong.
5 To thee, almighty God, to thee,
Our hearts we now refign;
Twill please us to look back and fee
That our whole lives were thine.
6 We'll do thy work, we'll fpeak thy praise,
Whilft we have life and breath;
Thus we're prepar'd for longer days,
Or fit for carly death.
Hymn XCV. Long Metre.
The Glory and Defence of the Church.
HAPPY the Church! thou facred place, The feat of thy Creator's grace!
Thy holy courts are his abode,
Thou earthly palace of our God.
2 Thy walls are ftrength, and at thy gates
A guard of heav'nly angels waits;
Nor fhall thy deep foundations move,
Built on the counfels of his love.
3 Thy foes in vain defigns engage,
Against thy walls in vain they rage;
Like rifing waves, with anger roar,
That dafh and die upon the fhore.
4 Then let our fouls in Zion dwell,
Nor fear the power of earth or hell;
Since God defends this happy ground,
Like brazen bulwarks built around.
5 God is our fun, God is our fhield,
Light and protection he will yield;
And we, beneath the genial rays,
Will fing his love, and speak his praife.
APPY the man whose cautious steps
Still keep the golden mean;
Whofe life, by wifdom's rules well form'd,
Declares a confcience clean.
2 Not of himfelf he highly thinks,
Nor acts the boaster's part;
His modeft tongue the language fpeaks
Of his more humble heart.
Not in base scandal's arts he deals,
For truth is in his breast;
With grief, he sees his neighbour's faults,
And thinks and hopes the best.
4 What bleflings bounteous Heaven bestows, He takes with thankful heart;
With temp'rance he receives his food,
And gives the poor a part.
To fect and party, his large foul
Difdains to be confin'd;
The good he loves, of every name,
And prays for all mankind.
Pure is his zeal, the offspring fair
Of truth and peaceful love;
The bigot's rage can never dwell
Where refts the heavenly dove.
Hymn XCVII. Common Metre. [*]
APPY the mind where graces reign,
And love infpires the breaft!
Love is the brightest of the train,
And strengthens all the reft.
Knowledge, alas! 'tis all in vain,
And all in vain our fear;
Our stubborn fins will fight and reign,
If love be abfent there.
"Tis love that makes our cheerful feet
In fwift obedience move;
Affliction's bitter cup is fweet,
When mix'd with heavenly love.
Soon as we drop this mortal clay,
And leave this dark abode,
On wings of love we'll foar
To fee our Father, God.
This is the grace that lives and fings,
When faith and hope fhall ceafe;
'Tis this fhall ftrike our joyful ftrings,
In realms of endless
Hymn XCVIII. Common Metre. [X]
The Blefedness of departed Saints.
H Let all attentive hear!
ARK! from on high a folemn voice,
'Twill make each pious heart rejoice, And vanquish every fear.
2 "Thrice bleffed are the pious dead, Who in the Lord fhall die;
Their weary flesh, as on a bed,
Safe in the grave shall lie.
"Their holy fouls at length releas'd,
To heaven fhall take their flight;
There to enjoy eternal reft,
4 They drop each load as they afcend,
And quit this world of woe;
Their labours with their lives fhall end;
Their reft, no period know.
5 "Their conflicts with their bufy foes
For evermore shall cease;
None fhall their happiness oppose,
Nor interrupt their peace.
6" But bright rewards fhall recompenfe
Their faithful fervice here;
And perfect love shall banish thence
Each gloomy doubt and fear."
hymn XCIX. Common Metre. []
HARK! from the tombs, a mournfu
My ears attend the cry:
"Ye living men, come view the ground Where you must shortly lie."
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