Imatges de pàgina
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7 No blood of beasts, on altars shed,
Could wash the conscience clean;
But the rich sacrifice he paid
Atones for all our sin.

8 Then was the great salvation spread,
And Satan's kingdom shook;
Thus by the woman's Promised Seed,
The serpent's head was broke.

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THE

Ver. 5-10. Christ our Sacrifice.

L. M.

HE wonders, Lord, thy love has wrought Exceed our praise, surmount our thought; Should I attempt the long detail,

My speech would faint, my numbers fail.

2 No blood of beasts on altars spilt
Can cleanse the souls of men from guilt;
But thou hast set before our eyes
An all-sufficient sacrifice.

3 Lo, thine eternal Son appears;
To thy design he bows his ears;
Assumes a body well prepared,
And well performs a work so hard.
4 "Behold I come," the Saviour cries,
With love and duty in his eyes;
"I come to bear the heavy load
Of sins, and do thy will, my God.
5 ""Tis written in thy great decree,
'Tis in the book foretold of me,
I must fulfill the Saviour's part;
And lo, thy law is in my heart.
6 "I'll magnify thy holy law,
And rebels to obedience draw,
When on my cross I'm lifted high,
Or to my crown above the sky.

7 "The Spirit shall descend and show
What thou hast done, and what I do;

The wondering world shall learn thy grace,
Thy wisdom and thy righteousness."

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Ver. 1-3. Pity for the Afflicted.

LESS'D is the man whose bowels move
And melt with pity to the poor;

L. M.

Whose soul, by sympathizing love, Feels what his fellow saints endure. 2 His heart contrives for their relief

More good than his own hands can do;
He, in a time of general grief,

Shall find the Lord has mercy too.
3 His soul shall live secure on earth,
With secret blessings on his head,
When drought and pestilence and dearth
Around him multiply their dead.

4 Or if he languish on his couch,

God will pronounce his sins forgiven;
Will save him with a healing touch,
Or take his willing soul to heaven.

FIRST PART.

C. M.

42 Ver. 1-5. Absence from the House of God mourned.

1

WITH
WITH earnest longings of the mind,

My God, to thee I look ;

So pants the hunted hart to find

And taste the cooling brook.

2 When shall I see thy courts of grace,
And meet my God again?
So long an absence from thy face
My heart endures with pain.

3 Temptations vex my weary soul,
And tears are my repast;
The foe insults without control,-
"And where's your God at last?"

4 'Tis with a mournful pleasure now
I think on ancient days:

Then to thy house did numbers go,
And all our work was praise.

5 But why, my soul, sunk down so far
Beneath this heavy load?

Why do my thoughts indulge despair,
And sin against my God?

6 Hope in the Lord, whose mighty hand
Can all thy woes remove;

For I shall yet before him stand,
And sing restoring love.

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SECOND PART.

Ver. 6-11. Hope in Affliction.

MY spirit sinks within me, Lord,

But I will call thy name to mind, And times of past distress record,

When I have found my God was kind. 2 Huge troubles, with tumultuous noise,

Swell like a sea, and round me spread;
Thy water-spouts drown all my joys,

And rising waves roll o'er my head,
3 Yet will the Lord command his love,
When I address his throne by day;
Nor in the night his grace remove;
The night shall hear me sing and pray.

4 I'll cast myself before his feet,

And say, "My God, my heavenly Rock,
Why doth thy love so long forget

The soul that groans beneath thy stroke?"
5 I'll chide my heart that sinks so low;
Why should my soul indulge in grief?
Hope in the Lord, and praise him too;
He is my rest, my sure relief.

6 Thy light and truth shall guide me still;
Thy word shall my best thoughts employ,
And lead me to thy heavenly hill,
My God, my most exceeding joy.

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SECOND VERSION.

Ver. 1-5. Thirsting for God.

S pants the hart for cooling streams,
When heated in the chase,
So longs my soul, O God, for thee

And thy refreshing grace.

2 For thee, my God, the living God,
My thirsty soul doth pine;

Oh, when shall I behold thy face,
Thou Majesty divine?

3 I sigh, with anxious care oppressed,
To think of happier days,

When with the joyful crowd I went
To sing glad songs of praise.

L. M.

C. M.

PSALMS.

4 Why art thou troubled, O my soul?
His praise I yet shall sing;
Hope still in him who is my
My health's eternal spring.

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2

3

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God,

The House of God.

TOW to thy sacred house

No With

With joy I turn my feet,

Tate and Brady.

Where saints, with morning vows,
In full assembly meet:

Thy power divine

Shall there be shown,

And from thy throne
Thy mercy shine.

Oh send thy light abroad;
Thy truth, with heavenly ray,
Shall lead my soul to God,
And guide my doubtful way.
I'll hear thy word

With faith sincere,
And learn to fear
And praise the Lord.

There reach thy bounteous hand,
And all my sorrows heal;
There health and strength divine
Oh make my bosom feel;
Like balmy dew

Shall Jesus' voice
My bones rejoice,
My strength renew.

Then in thy holy hill,

Before thine altar, Lord,

My harp and song shall sound

The glories of thy word:

Henceforth to thee,

O God of grace,

A hymn of praise,
My life shall be.

Ver. 1, 2, 3, 8, 15-26.

The Church's Complaint in Persecution.

1LORD, we have heard thy works of old, Thy works of power and grace,

H. M.

Dwight.

C. M.

When to our ears our fathers told

The wonders of their days.

2 How thou didst build thy churches here,
And make thy gospel known;
Among them did thine arm appear,
Thy light and glory shone."

3 In God they boasted all the day;
And, in a cheerful throng,

Did thousands meet to praise and pray; And grace was all their song.

4 But now our souls are seized with shame, Confusion fills our face,

To hear the enemy blaspheme,
And fools reproach thy grace.

5 Yet have we not forgot our God,
Nor falsely dealt with heaven;
Nor have our steps declined the road
Of duty thou hast given.

6 Though dragons all around us roar,
With their destructive breath,

And thy own hand has bruised us sore,
Hard by the gates of death.

PAUSE.

7 We are exposed all day to die,
As martyrs for thy cause;
As sheep for slaughter, bound we lie
By sharp and bloody laws.

8 Awake, arise, almighty Lord;

Why sleeps thy wonted grace?
Why should we look like men abhorred,
Or banished from thy face?

9 Wilt thou for ever cast us off,
And still neglect our cries,
For ever hide thy heavenly love
From our afflicted eyes?

10 Down to the dust our soul is bowed,
And dies upon the ground;

Rise for our help, rebuke the proud,
And all their powers confound.

11 Redeem us from perpetual shame,
Our Saviour, and our God;

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