7 No blood of beasts, on altars shed, 8 Then was the great salvation spread, 40 1 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 3 Lo, thine eternal Son appears; 7 "The Spirit shall descend and show The wondering world shall learn thy grace, 41 1 BL Ver. 1-3. Pity for the Afflicted. LESS'D is the man whose bowels move 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; Shall find the Lord has mercy too. 4 Or if he languish on his couch, God will pronounce his sins forgiven; FIRST PART. C. M. 42 Ver. 1-5. Absence from the House of God mourned. 1 WITH 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, 3 Temptations vex my weary soul, 4 'Tis with a mournful pleasure now Then to thy house did numbers go, 5 But why, my soul, sunk down so far Why do my thoughts indulge despair, 6 Hope in the Lord, whose mighty hand For I shall yet before him stand, 42 1 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; And rising waves roll o'er my head, 4 I'll cast myself before his feet, And say, "My God, my heavenly Rock, The soul that groans beneath thy stroke?" 6 Thy light and truth shall guide me still; 42 SECOND VERSION. Ver. 1-5. Thirsting for God. S pants the hart for cooling streams, And thy refreshing grace. 2 For thee, my God, the living God, Oh, when shall I behold thy face, 3 I sigh, with anxious care oppressed, When with the joyful crowd I went L. M. C. M. PSALMS. 4 Why art thou troubled, O my soul? 43 1 2 3 4 44 1 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, Thy power divine Shall there be shown, And from thy throne Oh send thy light abroad; With faith sincere, There reach thy bounteous hand, Shall Jesus' voice 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, 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, 3 In God they boasted all the day; 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, 5 Yet have we not forgot our God, 6 Though dragons all around us roar, And thy own hand has bruised us sore, PAUSE. 7 We are exposed all day to die, 8 Awake, arise, almighty Lord; Why sleeps thy wonted grace? 9 Wilt thou for ever cast us off, 10 Down to the dust our soul is bowed, Rise for our help, rebuke the proud, 11 Redeem us from perpetual shame, |