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Exult my soul; thy fafety stands

Unthaken as his throne : His people's everlafting life

Is founded on his own.

113.

L. M. HUMPHRY'S COL.
Pleading the Promise, &c.

O

GOD of grace, of love immense,

How free thy favours to dispense! I to thy mercy-seat repair, Since thou haft said, " I'll meet thee there." Thy promise is a firm decree, Tis made to fioners vile as me : Nor unbelief by hell employ'd, Shall make thy promise null and void. Thou seeft my soul by fin opprest, O come, and give the weary rest ! My base backsidings kindly heal, Apply the balm, thy lore reveal ! O take away the heart of stone, Thou know'ft how oft it makes me groan; Give me a heart of flesh, my Lord, Remember thine own facred word. Should I go mourning to the grave, 'Twere juft; yet Lord from darkness fave : Doth not thy tender word express, I will not leave you comfortless ?o? Burft through the clouds, O source of light, Let joy fucceed the weeping night! Thy beams shall make my desart grow, The fruit appear, the fpices flow.

What thou haft promis'd I implore,
Supplies from thy exhauftlefs store:
O righteous Father, just and true,
Give me both grace and glory too. T

,

THE INCARNATION, LIFE, SUFFER

INGS, DEATH, RESURRECTION, ASCENSION, AND EXALTATION OF CHRIST,

114. SEVENS TURNER. TOLY wonder, heav'nly grace,

Come, inspire our humble lays, While the Savior's love we fing, Whence our hopes and comforts Ipring. Man, involv'd in guilt and woe, Touch'd his tender bofom fo, That, when justice death demands, Forth the great Deliv’rer stands; Cries to God, “Thy mercy thew, “Lo ! I conie thy will al the sacrifice will be, “Death shall plunge his ďart in me.” Tho' the form of God he bore, Great in glorxa great in pow?!) See him in our flesh array'd, Lower than his angels made. He that heay'n itself poffefs'd, Now an infant at the breaft! Angels from the world above, See and fing th' amazing love

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Thro' the shining hours of day,
Toil and danger mark his way;
Lonely mounts, and chilling air,
Witness oft his midnight pray’r.
Now the heav'nly Lover dies !
Darkness vails the mid-day skies !
Angels round the bloody tree,
Throng and gaze in ecstacy!
Powers unseen earth’s bosom heave,
Rocks and tombs asunder cleave;
While the Temple's rending vail
Tells the priest the awful tale.
But, the third day's dawning come,
Lo! the Savior leaves the tomb !
Reafcends his native lky,
Where he lives no more to die.
On his cross he builds his throne,
Whence he makes his glories known,
Sends his Spirit down to give,
Dying finners grace to live.

115. L. M.- Watts's H.

Types and Propbecies of Christ.

!

Behold the great Melliah come!
Behold the prophets all agreed
To give him the fuperior room!
Abra'm, the faint, rejoic'd of old,
When visions of the Lord he saw;
Moses, the Map of God, foretold
This great fulfiller of his law.

The types bore witness to his name,
Obtain'd their chief design, and ceas'd :
The incense, and the bleeding lamb,
The ark, the altar, and the priest.
Predictions in abundance meet
To join their bleflings on his head :
Jesus, we worship at thy feet,
And nations own the promis'd feed.

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The Harbinger of Chrift.
VOICE the lonely derart chears,

God

appears;
The cry reverberates around;
The vocal hills repeat the found.
Ye lofty cedars homage pay;
Ye floods be ftill, ye rocks give way;
Ye mountains fink, ye forests bend;
Ye angels see your God descend.
Let devils fee, let men adore ;
Let tidings {pread from shore to thore;
Jehovah, deigns on earth to dwell,
Amongst the heirs of death and helle
His matchless glories he conceals,
And but his boundless love reveals ;
He
wraps

his God-head in our clay,
And comes to take our guilt away.
When he affumes a human form,
He meekly calls hinilelf a worm ;
Hark how his sounding bowels roll!
Our griefs oppress his holy soul.

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Sinners, your fuff'ring Lord adore,
He sweats, he bleeds thro' ev'ry pore ;
The wondrous scene of love admire,
And see him on the cross expire.'
With melting hearts, to him apply ;
Believe, and you shall never die :
Your souls, your all to Jesus give ;
For he has bled that ye might live.
117. C. M. Watts's P.

Bebold be comes.
NING to the Lord, ye diftant lands,

Ye tribes of ev'ry tongue :
His new discover'd

grace

demands A new and noble song. Say to the nations, Jerus reigns,

God's own Almighty Son; His pow'r the finking world sustains, And grace

surrounds his throne. Let heav'n proclaim the joyful day,

Joy thro' the earth be seen; Let cities shine in bright array,

And fields in cheerful green.
Let an unusual joy surprise

The islands of the sea :
Ye mountains. fink, ye vallies rise,

Prepare the Lord his way.
Behold he comes ! he comes to bless

The nations as their God; .. To thew the world his righteousness,

Aud fend bis truth abroad.

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