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4 Next he describes the thorns he wore, And talks his bloody passion o'er,
Till I am drown'd in tears: Yet with the sympathetic smart, There's a strange joy beats round my heart! The cursed tree has blessings in't, my sweetest
balm it bears. 5 I hear the glorious suff'rer tell, How on the cross he vanquish'd hell,
And all the powers beneath: Transported and inspir'd, my tongue Attempts his triumphs in a song: How has the serpent lost his sting, and where's
thy vict'ry death? 6 But when he shows his hands and heart, With those dear prints of dying smart,
He sets my soul on fire : Not the beloved John could rest With more delight upon that breast, Nor Thomas pry into those wounds with more
intense desire. 7 Kindly he opes to me his ear, And bids me pour my sorrows there,
And tell him all my pains: Thus while I ease my burthen'd heart, In ev'ry woe he bears a part, His arms embrace me, and his hand my drooping head sustains.
HYMN 8. P. M. 1
Nothing but shame and deep distress,
Caus'd by the creature's sin,
For this I him adore;
Through every opening pore.
3 The piercing thorns his temples bore,
Till one the bones might see;
Press'd by the heavy tree. 4 Thus up the hill he painful came, Round him they mock'd and made their game:
At length his cross they rear. And can you see the mighty God, Cry out beneath sin's heavy load,
Without one thankful tear ?
What tongue his grief can tell ?
When the Redeemer fell.
To quench our parching *hirst : Seraphs advance your voices higher, Bride of the Lamb unite the choir, And laud the precious Christ.
HYMN 9. P. M. I THOU sweet gliding Kedron, by thy silver
stream, Our Saviour at midnight, when Cynthia's pale
skies. 2 How damp were the vapours that fell on his
head, How hard was his pillow, how humble his bed! The Angels, astonish'd, grew sad at the sight, And follow'd their master with silent delight.
AWAKENING AND INVITING. 13 3 O Garden of Olivet-dear honour'd spot,
The fame of thy wonders shall ne'er be forgot ;
HYMN 10. L. M. 1
Hark! his expiring groans arise !
Runs down the sacred crimson tide! 2 But life attends the dreadful sound,
And flows from every bleeding wound;
To save and cleanse his rebel foes!
And could the sun behold the deed ?
And darkncss veild the mourning day. 4 Can I survey this scene of wo,
Where mingling grief and wonder flow,
Insensible to love or pain ?
To warm this cold, unfeeling heart; Tili all its powers and passions move, In melting grief, and ardent love.
AWAKENING AND INVITING.
HYMN 11. P. M. STReporoor sinnerid stop and think, Can you sport upon the briuk
of everlasting wo? Hedl heneath is gaping wide,
Vengeance waits the dread command; Soon he'll stop your sport and pride,
And sink you with the damn'd.
Then be entreated now to stop;
For unless you warning take,
Into a burning lake.
That you his will onpose ? Fear you not that iron rod
With which he breaks his focs ? Can you stand in that great day,
When he judgment will proclaim ? When the earth shall melt away
Like wax before the flame ? 3 Ghastly death shall quickly come,
And drag you to the bar;
Will fill you with despair:
Sins of a blood-crimson dye;
And what will you reply?
Your forehead lined with brass,
He will not let you pass ;
(Though they now despise his grace,) “Rocks and mountains on us fall,
And hide us from his face." 5 But as yet there is a hope,
You may his mercy know:
lle still forbears the blow:
Sinners he invites to come :
He says, “ There still is room."
HYMN 12. P. M.
1 LARK! the Jubilee is sounding:
O"the joyful news is come;
In and through God's own dear Son ;
Now we have an invitation
To the meek and lowly Lamb; Glory, honour, and salvation,
Christ the Lord is come to reign. 2 Come dear friend and don't neglect it,
Come to Jesus in your prime; Great Salvation, don't reject it,
O receive it, now's your time; Now the Saviour is beginning
To revive his work again; Glory, honour, and salvation,
Christ the Lord is come to reign. 3 Come, dear children, praise your Jesus,
Praise him, praise him evermore; May his great love now constrain us,
His great name for to adore ;
Crowns of glory to obtain;
HYMN 13. P. M. 1
S'NNER, hear the Saviour's call,
And heard thy mournfu. cry ;
Grace to save thee from thy fears, See the love that fills his heart,
And wipes away thy tears. 2 Why art thou afraid to come,
And tell him all thy case ? He will not pronounce thy door
Nor frown thce from his face : Wilt thou fear Immanuel ?
Wilt thou fear the Lamb of God, Who to save thy soul from hell,
Has shed his precious blood ? 3 Think, how on the cross he hung,
Piercd with a thousand wounds Hark from each, as with a lopgne,
The voice of pardon sounds!