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5 Oh, the fweet wonders of that crofs,
Where God the Saviour lov'd and dy'd!
Her nobleft life my fpirit draws

From his dear wounds and bleeding fide.
6 I would forever fpeak his name,
In founds to mortal ears unknown,
With angels join to praise the Lamb,
And worship at his Father's throne.

HYMN XI. Common Metre.
Pardon brought to our fenfes.


ORD, how divine thy comforts are!
How heav'nly is the place,

Where Jefus fpreads the facred feaft
Of his redeeming grace!

2 There the rich bounties of our God,
And sweetest glories fhine;


There Jefus fays that "I am his,
"And my Beloved's mine."

Here," fays the kind redeeming Lord,
And fhews his wounded fide,

"See here the fpring of all your joys,
"That open'd when I dy'd !"

4 [He fmiles and cheers my mournful heart,
And tells of all his pain:

"All this," he fays, "I bore for thee,"
And then he fmiles again.]

5 What shall we pay our Heav'nly King
For grace fo vaft as this!

He brings our pardon to our eyes,
And feals it with a kifs.

6 [Let fuch amazing loves as thefe
Be founded all abroad;

Such favours are beyond degrees,
And worthy of a God.1

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7 [To Him who wash'd us in his blood
Be everlasting praise,
Salvation, honour, glory, pow'r,
Eternal as his days.]

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HYMN XII. Long Metre.
The gofpel feaft. Luke xiv. 16, &c.
[OW rich are thy provifions, Lord!

H Thy table furnit'd from above!

The fruits of life o'erfpread the board, The cup o'erflows with heav'nly love. 2 Thine ancient family, the Jews, Were firft invited to the feaft: We humbly take what they refuse, And Gentiles thy falvation taste. 3 We are the poor, the blind, the lame; And help was far, and death was nigh! But, at the gofpel call we came, And ev'ry want receiv'd fupply. 4 From the highway that leads to hell, From paths of darkness and despair, Lord, we are come with thee to dwell, Glad to enjoy thy prefence here.] 5 What fhall we pay th' Eternal Son, That left the heav'n of his abode, And to this wretched earth came down, To bring us, wand'rers, back to God? 6 It coft him death to fave our lives; To buy our fouls it coft his own; And all the unknown joys he gives, Were bought with agonies unknown. 7 Our everlasting love is due

To Him who ranfom'd finners loft;
And pity'd rebels, when he knew
The vaft expenfe his love would coft.


Common Metre.

Divine love making a feaft, and calling in the guest Luke xiv. 17, 22, 23.

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OW fweet and awful is the place,
With Chrift within the doors,

While everlafting love displays

The choiceft of her ftores!

2 Here ev'ry bowel of our God
With foft compaffion rolls;

Here peace and pardon bought with blood,
Is food for dying fouls.

3 While all our hearts, and all our fongs,
Join to admire the feast,



Each of us cry, with thankful tongues,
"Lord, why was I a guest?

"Why was I made to hear thy voice,

"And enter while there's room,

"When thousands make a wretched choice, "And rather ftarve than come ?”

'Twas the fame love that spread the feast,
That sweetly forc❜d us in ;

Elfe we had ftill refus'd to tafte,
And perifh'd in our fin.

6 [Pity the nations, O our God


Conftrain the earth to come; Send thy victorious word abroad, And bring the ftrangers home.

7 We long to fee thy churches full,
That all the chofen race

May with one voice, and heart, and foul,
Sing thy redeeming grace.]

HYMN XIV. Long Metre.

The Song of Simeon; Luke ii. 28; or, a fight of Christ


makes death eafy.

OW have our hearts embrac'd our God,
We would forget all earthly charms,

And wish to die, as Simeon would,
With his young Saviour in his arms.
2 Our lips fhould learn that joyful fong,
Were but our hearts prepar'd like his;
"Our fouls ftill waiting to be gone,
"And at thy word depart in peace.




"Here we have feen thy face, O Lord,
"And view'd falvation with our eyes,
"Tafted and felt the living Word,
"The bread defcending from the skies.
"Thou haft prepar'd this dying Lamb,
"Haft fet his blood before our face,
"To teach the terrors of thy name,
"And fhew the wonders of thy grace.
"He is our light; our morning-star
"Shall fhine on nations yet unknown;
"The glory of thine Ifr'el here,
"And joy of spirits near thy throne."



Common Metre.

Our Lord Jefus at his own table.

HE mem'ry of our dying Lord
Awakes a thankful tongue:

How rich he fpread his royal board,
And blefs'd the food, and fung!

2 Happy the men that eat this bread,
But doubly bless'd was he

Who gently bow'd his loving head,
And lean'd it, Lord, on Thee.

3 By faith the fame delights we tafte
As that great fav'rite did,
And fit and lean on Jesus' breast,
And take the heav'nly bread.
4 Down from the palace of the skies,
Hither the King defcends!
"Come, my beloved, eat (he cries)
“And drink falvation, friends.

5 "My flesh is food and phyfic too,
"A balm for all your pains:
"And the red ftreams of pardon flow
"From these my pierced veins.”

6 Hofanna to his bounteous love,
For fuch a feaft below!

And yet he feeds his faints above
With nobler blessings too.

7 [Come, the dear day, the glorious hour, That brings our fouls to rest!


Then we shall need these types no more,
But dwell at th' heav'nly feast.]


Common Metre.

The agonies of Chrift.

OW let our pains be all forgot,
Our hearts no more repine;

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Our fuff'rings are not worth a thought,
Lord, when compar'd with thine.

2 In lively figures here we fee

The bleeding Prince of love;

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