'Scaped from the fowler's snare,
One thousand years she here shall dwel,
While Satan is chained down in hell,
Which ends the jubil' year.

5 The dragon is let loose once more,
And round the earth his trumpets roa.
He's now for war again;

But he that sits upon the throne,
Drives Satan and his legions down,
Into the fiery main.

6 The seventh trumpet you shall hear,
A great white throne shall then appear
Ten thousand angels round:

An angel turns the moon to blood,
Puts out the sun, consumes the flood,
And burns the solid ground.

7 Arise ye nations and come forth,
From east and west and north and south,
Behold the Judge is come:

What horror fills the guilty breast,
Compell'd to stand the solemn test,
And hear the awful doom.

8 Depart ye cursed, go down to hell,
With howling fiends for ever dwel.,
No more to see my face;

My glorious gospel you've withstood,
And set at nought my precious blood,
And scoff'd at sovereign grace.

9 See parents and their children part,
Some shout for joy, some bleed in heart,
Never to meet again;

1

In fiery chariots Zion flies,

And quickly gains the upper skies,
On Cauaan's happy plain.

HYMN 153. C. M.

BEHOLD the man, threescore and teĽ,

Upon a dying bed;

He's run his race, and got no grace,
An awful sight indeed.

2 Poor man he lies, in sore surprise
And thus he doth complain;

K

No grace I've got, and I cannot
Recall my time again.

3 This is the truth, I've spent my youth,
In sinful sports and mirth;
Put far away the evil day,

And scarcely thought on death.

4 My conscience then, could not refrain,
But gave me many a check;
But wilfully I put him by,

H voice I did reject.

5 God's spirit came, once and again,
To me from realms above;
Alas! but I would not comply;
I grieved the heav'nly dove.

5 In middle age, I did engage
In the affairs of life;

Some wealth to gain, that might sustain
My children and my wife.

7 This worldly care, did prove a snare,
The devil led ine on;

And now, alas, this is the case,

My day of grace is gone.

8 My sins are all, both great and small, Before my fixed eye;

And I must go to endless wo,

To burn eternally.

9 O dreadful hell, where I must dwell,
God's vengeance reigneth there;

I yield my breath to cruel death,
In horror and despair.

10 My glass is run, and I'm undone,
No mercy can I find :

And instantly the man doth die,
And leave no hope behind.

11 An awful sight, God grant it might,

A warning be to all,

To seek God's face for saving grace,
And hearken to his call.

1

HYMN 154. P. M.

ARISE and shine, O Zion fair,

Behold thy light is come;

Thy glorious conquering king is near,
To take his exiles home :

The trumpet sounding through the sky,
To set poor sinners free;

The day of wonder now is nigh,
The year of jubilee.

2 Ye heralds blow your trumpets loud;
The earth must know her doom;
Go spread the news from pole to pole,
Behold the judge is come:

Blow out the sun! burn up the earth!
Consume the rolling flood!
While every star shall disappear,
Go turn the moon to blood!

3 Arise ye nations under ground,
Before the judge appear;

All tongues and languages shall come,
Their final doom to hear!
King Jesus on his dazzling throne,
Ten thousand angels round,
And Gabriel with a silver trump,
Echo's the awful sound.

4 The glorious news of gospel grace
To sinners now is o'er;
The trump in Zion now is still,
And to be heard no more!

The watchinen all have left their walls,
And with their flocks above,

On Canaan's peaceful shore they sing,
And shout redeeming love.

1

HYMN 155. P. M.

E virgin souls arise,

YE

With all the dead awake,

Unto salvation wise,

Oil in your vessels take;

Upstarting at the midnight cry,

Behold your heavenly Father nigh.

2 He comes, he comes, to call
The nations to his bar,
And take to glory all

Who meet for glory are:
Make ready for your full reward,
Go forth with joy to meet your Loid.
3 Go meet him in the sky,

Your everlasting friend-
Your head to glorify

With all his saints ascend.
Ye pure in heart, obtain the grace
To see, without a veil, his face.
4 Ye that have here received
The unction from above,
And in his spirit lived,

And thirsted for his love;
Jesus shall claim you for his bride;
Rejoice with all the sanctified.

5 Rejoice in glorious hope

Of that great day, unknown,
When you shall be caught up

To stand before his throne ;-
Call'd to partake the marriage feast,
And lean on your Immanuel's breast.
6 The everlasting doors

Shall soon the saints receive,

With seraphs, thrones, and powers,
In glorious joy to live:

And far from sorrow, pain and sin,
With God eternally shut in.

7 Then let us wait to hear

The trumpet's welcome sound;
To see our Lord appear,

May we be watching found!
Enrobed in righteousness divine
In which the bride shall ever shine.

HYMN 156. L. M.

HOUGH in the outward church below
The wheat and tares together grow;

Jesus ere long will weed the crop,
And pluck the tares in anger up:

For soon the reaping time will come,
And angels sout the harvest home.

2 Will it relieve their horrors there,

To recollect their stations here;

How much they heard, how much they knew,
How much among the wheat they grew?

For soon the reaping time, &c.

3 Oh! this will aggravate their case,
They perish'd under means of grace;
To them the word of life, and faith,
Became an instrument of death.

And soon, &c.

4 We seem alike when thus we meet;
Strangers might think we all were wheat;
But to the Lord's all-searching eyes,
Each heart appears without disguise.

And soon, &c.
5 The tares are spar'd for various ends;
Some for the sake of praying friends;
Others, the Lord against their will,
Employs his counsels to fulfil.

But soon, &c.

6 But though they grow so tall and strong,
His plan will not require them long;
In harvest when he saves his own,
The tares shall into hell be thrown.

For soon, &c.

7. Most awful thought, and is it go,
Must all mankind the harvest know?
Is every man a wheat or tare?
Me for that harvest, Lord, prepare.

1

For soon the reaping time, &c

HYMN 157, P. M.

SEE the etraal Judge descending,
Seated on his Father's throne;

Now poor sinner, Christ will show thee
That he's with the Father one:
Trumpets call thee,

Stand and hear thy awful doom.
2 Hear the sinner now lamenting;
At the sight of fiercer pain;
Cries and tears he now is venting,
But he weeps and cries in vain: