And has it's curs'd foundations laid,
Low as the deeps of hell?

4 See! here an endless ocean flows,
Of never-failing grace :
Behold a dying Saviour's veins,
The facred flood increase.

It rifes high, and drowns the hills, Has neither fhore nor bound : Believing finners here are cleans'd, Their fins no more are found.

6 Awake, our hearts, adore the grace,
That buries all our faults;
And pard'ning blood, that fwells above
Our follies and our thoughts.

LIV. The Bleffednefs of an Ab

and

fence from the Body. Prefence with the Lord. 2

Cor, v. 8.

'H

OW happy are the faints,

From mortal flesh discharg❜d!

From clogs, infirmities and chains,
Unfetter'd and enlarg'd!

2 No

2 No more in might they dwell;
No more lock'd up in clay;
Down drops the dark impris'ning cell,
And all is boundless day.

3 Their father and their God,
Now face to face is feen;
Without one frown upon his brow,
Without a cloud between.

4 The Lamb doth lead their fouls,
To founts of life and blifs;
And tells them he is ever theirs,
And they are ever his.

5 With pleasure they furvey,
The trophies of his might ;
While their expanding bofoms glow,
With infinite delight.

6 No longer then let death, Be dreaded or deplor'd;

'Tis a deliv'rance from the flesh,

To bring us near our Lord.

LIV. God

LIV. God befeeching Sinners to be reconciled to Him,

V. 20.

2 Cor.

ARK how the gospel-trumpet founds!

'H 'Tis a delightful voice:

Pris'ners of death, no longer groan;
"Ye broken hearts rejoice."

2 Pardon to finners is proclaim'd,
By their affronted God;

"Tis GOD befeeches to accept, Peace made by Jefu's blood.

3

What anfwer, Lord, fhall we return,

To this ftupendous grace?

Shall the most high, t'eternal blifs,

Befeech a ruin'd race?

4 When vengeance might have crush'd to death,

The poor, rebellious worms,

The God of love propofes peace,

In moft alluring forms.

5

What heart fuch kindness can refift,

Or fpurn fuch wond'rous grace?

Come, finners, hear your maker's voice,

And take, in heaven, your place.

LV. Thanks to God for Jesus

'T

Chrift.

HE Father, in his boundless grace, His own beloved Son has given, From death and hell to fave our race;

His Son! the richest gift of heav'n.

2 Bleflings tranfcendent and divine, Unnumber'd, and beyond all bound, In this ftupendous gift combine,

In him, our Saviour-God, are found.

3 His blood effaces all our fin ;
His spirit purifies our hearts :
Difpels the night and storms within,
And heav'nly calms, and joys imparts.

4 But O! beyond this mortal ftate, Thro' Jefus what full pleasures rife ! Immortal, infinitely great

In blissful realms, above the skies.

5 Father, and fountain-head of grace,
To thee be endless praises giv'n,
Below, by all the ransom'd race,
Above, by all the choirs of heav'n.

LVÍ. The

LVI. The Priveleges and Hopes of Saints, 1 John. iii. 1, 2,

3.

H

I

OW wond'rous is the love,

That makes us heirs of heav'n!

The love that has renew'd our hearts,
And all our guilt forgiv'n!

2 The faints are here unknown,
Are princes in disguife;

Nor fhall their glories be reveal'd,
'Till Chrift fhall leave the skies..

3 Then fhall they fee his face,
And in his blifsful fight;,
Shall with his image be adorn'd,.
And shine divinely bright..

4. Transported with this hope,
And with these bleffings crown'd;;
Holy and heav'nly be our lives;
Such as our Lord's was found,

5: That hope fhall not be vain, Which operates by love ; :

While hourly fruits of righteousnefs,›

It's heav'nly virtue prove.