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Thy vict'ries and thy deathlefs fame,
Thro' the wide world fhall run;
And everlasting ages fing

The triumphs thou haft won.

In humble notes our faith adores
The great mysterious King;
While angels ftrain their nobler pow'rs,
And sweep th' immortal ftring.

H

125. C. M.

Another.

TOSANNA to the Prince of grace:
Sion, behold thy King;

Proclaim the Son of David's race,
And teach the babes to fing.

Hofanna to th' incarnate Word,
Who from the Father came;
Ascribe falvation to the Lord,
With bleflings on his. Name,

H

126. L. M.

Another.

OSANNA to king David's Son, Who reigns on a fuperior throne; We blefs the Prince of heav'nly birth, Who brings falvation down to earth. Let ev'ry nation, ev'ry age, In this delightful work engage; Old men and babes in Sion fing The growing glories of her King.

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A FRIEND there voices

Ye Saints, to praise his name!— Whose truth and kindness are divine, Whofe love's a conftant flame.

When most we need his helping hand, This friend is always near;

With heav'n and earth at his command,
He waits to answer pray'r.

His love no end or measure knows,
No change can turn its course;
Immutably the fame it flows

From one eternal fource.

When frowns appear to veil his face,
And clouds furround his throne,
He hides the purpose of his grace,

To make it better known.

And, if our dearest comforts fall
Before his fov'reign will,
He never takes away our all-
Himself he gives us ftill!

Our forrows in the scale he weighs,
And measures out our pains
The wildest storm his word obeys,
His word its rage restrains !

W!

128. L. M.

The Immutability of Chrift.

7ITH transport, Lord, our fouls proclaim
Th' immortal honors of thy name :
Affembled round our Savior's throne,
We make his ceaseless glories known.
High, on his Father's royal feat,
Our Jefus fhone divinely great,
E'er Adam's clay with life was warm'd,
Or Gabriel's nobler fpirit form'd.
Through all fucceeding ages he

The fame hath been, the fame fhall be:
Immortal radiance crowns his head,
While ftars and funs wax old and fade.

The fame his power his faints to guard,
The fame his bounty to reward; *
The fame his faithfulness and love,
To faints on earth, and faints above.
Let nature change and fink and die;
Jefus fhall raife his chosen high;
And fix them near his ftable throne
In glory changeless as his own.

129. C. M. Altered by TOPLADY.
Chrift's Obedience.

ATHER, we fing thy wond'rous grace,
We blefs our Savior's name;

FAT

He brought falvation for the poor;
And bore the finner's fhame.

*Reward of grace, not of debt.

His deep distress has rais'd us high,
His duty and his zeal

Fulfill'd the law which mortals broke,
And finish'd all thy will.

Through his obedience fo complete,
Peace is to finners giv'n;
Mercy and truth together met,

When he came down from heav'n.

This fhall, thy humble foll'wers fee,
And fet their hearts at reft;
They, by his death, draw near to thee,
And live for ever bleft.

Grief, like a garment, cloath'd him round,
And fackcloth was his drefs,
While he wrought out for naked fouls
A robe of righteoufnefs.

May our incarnate God and King
Our sweetest thoughts employ !
And we his endless praises fing
In palaces of joy!

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JE

Gethsemane.

ESUS, whilft he dwelt below,
As divine hiftorians fay,

To a place would often go,

Near to Kedron's brook it lay

In this place he lov'd to be,
And 'twas nam'd Gethfemane.

Thither, by their Master brought, His difciples likewife came; There the heav'nly truth he taught, Often fet their hearts on flame; Therefore they, as well as he, Vifited Gethfemane.

Full of love to man's loft race,
On his conflict much he thought,
This he knew the deftin'd place,
And he lov'd the facred spot ;
Therefore 'twas he lik'd to be
Often in Gethsemane.

Came at length the dreadful night,
Vengeance with its iron rod,
Stood and with collected might

Bruis'd the harmlefs Lamb of God. See, my foul, thy Savior fee, Grov'ling in Gethsemane.

Oh, what wonders love has done!
But how little understood !
God well knows, and God alone,
What produc'd that freat of blood.
Who can thy deep wonders fee
Wonderful Gethsemane.

There my God bore all my guilt;
This thro' grace can be believ'd;
But the horrors which he felt,

Are too vaft to be conceiv'd.
None can penetrate thro' thee,
Doleful, dark Gethsemane !

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