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Hell and thy fins refift thy course,
But hell and fin are vanquifh'd foes;
Thy Jefus nail'd them to the cross,
And fung the triumph when he rofe.
What tho' the prince of darkness rage,
And wafte the fury of his fpite;
Eternal chains confine him down
To fi'ry deeps, and endless night.
What tho' thine inward lufts rebel,
'Tis but a ftruggling gafp for life;
The weapons of victorious grace
Shall flay thy fins, and end the ftrife.
Then let my foul march boldly on,
Prefs forward to the heav'nly gate;
There peace and joy eternal reign,
And glitt'ring robes for conqu'rors wait.
There fhall I wear a ftarry crown,
And triumph in almighty grace;
While all the armies of the skies
Join in my glorious Leader's praise.

A

271. L. M.

WATTS'S H.

The Chriftian Race.

WAKE our fouls, away our fears,

Let ev'ry trembling thought be gone;

Awake, and run the heav'nly race,
And put a chearful courage on.
True, 'tis a straight and thorny road,
And mortal spirits tire and faint;
But they forget the mighty God,
Who feeds the ftrength of ev'ry faint.

O mighty God, thy matchlefs pow'r,
Is ever new and ever young;
And firm endures, while endless years,
Their everlafting circles run.

From thee, the overflowing spring,
Believers drink a freth fupply
While fuch as truft their native strength,
Shall melt away, and droop, and die.

Swift as an eagle cuts the air,

Oh may we mount to thine abode; On wings of love to Jefus fly,

Nor tire amidft the heav'nly road.

BE

272. L. M.

WATTS'S H.

Publican and Pharifee.

EHOLD how finners difagree-
The publican and pharifee

One doth his righteouineis proclaim,
The other owns his guilt and thame :

The one at humble distance ftands,
And owas the breach of God's commands;
The other rites near the throne,

And talks of duties he has done.

The Lord their diffrent language knows,
And diffrent antwers be bettows:
The bumble foul with grace he crow as
While on the proud his anger frowns.
Dear Farber, let me never be
Join'd with the boating pharice;
I bave ve merit of my own,

But plead the sad rings of thy Son

2

273.

Helmsley T.

ROBINSON.

The Pilgrim: or, Chrift my Guide.

G

UIDE me, O thou great Jehovah!
Pilgrim thro' this barren land;
I am weak, but thou art mighty,
Hold me with thy pow'rful hand;
Bread of Heaven,

Feed me 'till I want no more.

Open thou the cryftal fountain,
Whence the healing ftreams do flow;
Let the fiery cloudy pillar

Lead me all my journey thro':
Strong Deliv rer,

Be thou still my ftrength and shield.

When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears fubfide;
Death of death's, and hell's deftruction,
Land me fafe on Canaan's fide.

Songs of praifes,

Will I ever give to thee.

274. As the 148th.

Daniel and the three Worthies..

THE fervant of the Lord,

Tho' in himself a worm,

/ Supported by the Word,

Can wond'rous acts perform; Strong in his God, he boldly treads Where'er the path of duty leads,

Newton

The haughty king, in vain,
With fury on his brow,
Believers would conftrain

To golden gods to bow :

The furnace could not make them fear, Because they knew the Lord was near.

As vain was the decree

Which charg'd them not to pray; Daniel ftill bow'd the knee,

And worshipp'd thrice a day; Regardless heard the threats of men ; Nor dreaded he the lion's den.

Secure they might refuse
Compliance with fuch laws,
For what had they to lose,

When God efpous'd their caufe?

He made the hungry lions crouch;
Nor durft the fire his children touch.

The Lord is ftill the fame,

A mighty Shield and Tow'r ;
And they who truft his name
Are guarded by his pow'r :

He can the rage of lions tame,
And bear his people thro' the flame.

Yet faints too often fhrink

When trials are in view;

And oft believers think

They never can get thro' :

But could they on their God rely,

They would their foes and fears defy.

A'

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LOUD I cry'd-aloud I pray'd,
When in the fishes belly laid,
And hell's deep gloom I faw!
The foaming billows dafh'd around,
But, oh, more awful ftill I found
The terrors of thy law.

The fea-weeds wrapp'd about my head,
The hoary deep thy wrath difplay'd,
And ftill increas'd my fear:

Wave follow'd wave with dreadful noife, And feem'd to drown my feeble voice, But yet my God could hear.

Could hear a guilty wretch complain,
And when I thought my fighs were vain
A kind deliv'rance fend:

Tho' flying from his gracious fight,
I, rebel like, defy'd his might,

He prov'd the finner's friend.

The High and Lofty One look'd down,
The Lord took pity on his own,
And deign'd my life to fave:
His injur'd goodness took my part,
His pity heal'd my broken heart,
His hand unlock'd my grave.
Thanksgiving, love, and humble praise
Shall fill the remnant of my days,
Shall bow my grateful knee:
My gracious Savior, and my God,
I'll praife thee for thy chaft'ning rod,
Which brought me back to thee.

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