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But vessels built by human skill have never
sail'd afar, Till they're found run aground on some dreadful
sandy bar. 3 The everlasting Gospel has launch'd the deep at Behold her sails suspended around her towering
masts; Around her decks, in order, the joyful sailors
stand, Crying Ol here we go, to Emmanuel's happy land! 4 To those who are spectators, what sorrow must
ensue, To have their old companions bid them a long
adieu ; The pleasures of a paradise no longer them
invite : They may rail while we sail, but we 'll soon be
out of sight. 5 We're now on the wide ocean, 'we bid them all
farewell, But where we shall cast anchor, no mortal tongue !
can tell : About our future happiness there needs be no
debate, While we ride on the tide, with our Captain and
bis Mate. 6 We're passengers united with harmony and
love! The wind's all in our favour, how joyfully we
move : Though troubles may surround us, and raging
billows roar, We will sweep through the deep, till we land on
GLORYING IN THE CROSS.
HYMN 119. P. M. 1
Which before the cross I spend;
From the sinner's dying friend.
Mercy's streams, in streams of blood :
Plead and clạim my peace with God. 2 Truly blessed is this station,
Low before his cross to lie,
Floating in his languid eye.
While upon the Lamb I gaze:
I'in a miracle of grace.
With my tears his feet I'll bathe :
Life deriving from his death.
In all need to Jesus go;
HYMN 120. L. M. 1
A mortal man asham'd of thee!
Whose glories shine through endless days ! 2 Asham'd of Jesus! sooner far
Let evening blush to own a star:
O'er this benighted soul of nine. 3 Asham'd of Jesus ! just as soon
Løt midnight be asham'd of noon;
'Tis midnight with my soul till he,
Bright Morning Star, bids darkness flee. 4 Asham'd of Jesus! that dear friend
On whom my hopes of heaven depend!
That I no more revere his name. 5 Asham'd of Jesus ! yes, I may
When I've no guilt to wash away,
'Till then I boast a Saviour slain;
That Christ is not asham'd of me. by His institutions I will prize,
Take up my cross-the shame despise,
HYMN 121. P. M.
I long thy salvation more fully to prove; I love thee, I love thee, I love thee, O why?
Because my dear Saviour for sinners did die. 2 On Zion's bright mountain this news I will tell,
The strains of redemption my bosom shall swell, With angelic ardour his love I'll proclaim,
Redemption for sinners in Jesus's name. 3 Redemption, redemption, through Zion shall ring, In the flame of redemption, her converts shall
sing: Redemption, redemption, through Jesus's blood,
Descending from Calv'ry and runs like a flood. 4 We'll talk of redemption while we stay below,
We'll sing of redemption when upwards we go; When the sun shall be darken'd, the moon turn'd
to blood, We'll shout 'full redemption in the kingdom of
God. 3 When sinking in sorrow free grace did abound,
Pursu'd by the devil, redenıption we found;
Our hearts to redemption we'll tune ev'ry string, Through heaven's high arches redemption shall
ring. 6 Redemption, redemption, to him that was slain;
We'll out-sing the angels in this heavenly strain: Redemption to Jesus, for ever we'll cry,
For men, not for angels, the Saviour did die. 7 All glory, all glory, to Jesus's name,
All wisdom and power to the spotless Lamb,
Hosanna, hosanna, through eternity.
But we'll sing redemption to Jesus our king: Through ages eternal these songs shall be sung While Jesus's glory inspires each tongue.
HYMN 122. C. M. 1 Swand bless the evening grove !
WEET muse descend, and bless the shade, Business, and noise, and day are fled,
And ev'ry care but love. 2 'Tis no mean beauty of the grove,
That hath enslav'd my eyes; I faint beneath a nobler wound
Than love below the skies.
My hopes, my fears, my joys:
Shall still command my voice. 4 Some of the fairest choirs above,
Shall flock around my song,
Sound from a mortal's tongue.
And hold the falling flood, While silence sits on every bough,
And bends the list'ning wood.
And ev'ry wounded tree,
That Jesus died for me.
7 The swains shall wonder when they read,
Inscrib'd on all the grove,
To win a mortal's love.
10 cemented, mix'd in one,
HYMN 123. C. M.
'Tis heaven on earth begun;
And glow'd with sacred fire;
A Saviour! let creation sing!
We then shall meet to part no more. 2 We're soldiers fighting for our God,
Let trembling cowards fly;
With Christ to live and die:
We'll force our passage through; Let foes unite, and friends desert,
We'll seize the crown, our due. 3 The little cloud increases still,
The heavens are big with rain;
And all its moisture drain:
Oh pour the mighty flood;
Till all proclaim thee God.