HYMNS.

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HYMN I.-(Soulbury.)

FOR CHRISTMAS DAY.

IGH let us swell our tuneful notes,
And join th' angelic throng,

For Angels no such love have known
To make a cheerful song.

2 Good-will to sinful men is shewn,
And peace on earth is given;
For lo! th' incarnate Saviour comes
Th' Ambassador of Heav'n.

3 Justice and Grace, with sweet accord,
His rising beams adorn;
Let heav'n and earth in concert join;
The promis'd Child is born.

4 Glory to God in highest strains,
In highest worlds be paid;
His glory by our lips be sung,
And by our lives display'd.

5 When shall we reach those blissful realms,

Where Christ exalted reigns;

And learn of the celestial choir,
Their own immortal strains?

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HYMN II. (Plymouth.)

FOR CHRISTMAS DAY.

ARK! the herald angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King!
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconcil'd.

2 Joyful, all ye nations rise,
Join the triumphs of the skies;
With th' angelic host proclaim,
"Christ is born in Bethlehem."

3 Veil'd in flesh, the Godhead see;
Hail th' incarnate Deity;

Hail the heav'n-born Prince of Peace;
Hail the Son of Righteousness.

4 Mild he lays his glory by,

Born, that man no more may die;
Born, to raise the sons of earth,
Born, to give them second birth.

5 Hark! the herald angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King!
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconcil'd.

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HYMN III.-(Sheldon.)

FOR GOOD FRIDAY.

HEN deep in sorrow and distress,
We wretched sinners lay,
With scarce a cheerful beam of hope,
Or spark of glimm'ring day,

2 With pitying eyes, the Prince of Peace Beheld our helpless grief;

He saw, and, O amazing love!
He came to our relief.

3 Down from his blessed seat, above,
With joyful haste he fled;

For our redemption suffer'd death,
And dwelt among the dead.

4 Oh! for this love, let rocks and hills
Their lasting silence break;
And all harmonious human tongues,
The Saviour's praises speak.

5 Ye angels, aid our grateful joys,
Strike all your harps of gold;
But, when you raise your highest notes,
His love can ne'er be told.

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HYMN IV.-(Bristol.)

FOR CHRISTMAS DAY.

IFT up your heads in joyful hope,
Salute the happy morn;
Each Heavenly Pow'r

Proelaims the glad hour,

Lo! Jesus the Saviour is born,

CHORUS.

Then let us join the Heav'ns above,
Where hyming Seraphs sing;
Join all their glad pow'rs,

For the Lord is ours,

Our Prophet, our Priest, and our King.

2 All glory be to God on high,

To him all praise is due;

The promise is seal'd,

The Saviour's reveal'd,

And proves that the record is true.

CHORUS.

Then let us, &c.

3 Let joy around, like rivers flow,

Flow on, and still increase;
Spread o'er the glad earth,
At Jesus's birth,

For Heaven and Earth are at peace.

CHORUS.

Then let us, &c.

4 Now the good-will of Heaven is shown
To Adam's helpless race;
Messiah's made known
To ransom his son;

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To save them by infinite grace.

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CHORUS.

Then let us, &c.

HYMN V.-(Eagle Street)

FOR WHITSUNDAY.

YOME, Holy Spirit, come!
Let thy bright beams arise:
Dispel corruption's mournful gloom,
And cheer our op'ning eyes.

Our drooping faith inspire,
Our doubts and fears remove,
And kindle in our hearts the fire

Of never-dying love.

'T is Thine to cleanse the heart,
To sanctify the soul,

To pour fresh life on ev'ry part,
And new-create the whole.

Descend, Celestial Dove!
From Sin our bosoms free,

Sweet Guest, that we may know, and love

The Father, Son, and Thee.

HYMN VI. (Portuguese.)

FOR WHITSUNDAY.

PIRIT of Mercy, Truth and Love!

SPIR

Shed Thy sweet influence from above,

And still from age to age convey

The wonders of this Sacred Day.

2 In ev'ry clime, by ev'ry tongue,
Be God's amazing glory sung;
Through all the list'ning earth be taught
The acts our ris'n Redeemer wrought.

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3 Unfailing Comfort! Heav'nly Guide!
Still o'er Thy favour'd Church preside:
Still may mankind Thy blessings prove,
Spirit of Mercy, Truth, and Love!

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HYMN VII.-(Brunswick)

FUNERAL HYMN.

OLEST are the Dead who die in Christ,
They from their labour rest:
From death they'll rise triumphantly,
And be for ever bless'd

2 Though Death our bodies shall destroy,
And none his life shall save,

Yet shall we rise, and say-" Where is
"Thy victory, O Grave?"

3 Grant, Lord, when we resign our breath, We may from hell be free;

Because in death, Thy Holy One
Did no corruption see.

4 To us the paths of life display,
That to thy presence lead;
Where pleasures are for evermore,
And joys which never fade.

FAR

HYMN VIII.-(Brodsworth.)

AR from the world, O Lord, I flee,
From strife, and tumult far;
From scenes, where Satan wages still
His too successful war.

2 The calm retreat, the silent shade,
With pray'r and praise agree;
And seem by Thy sweet bounty form'd
For those, who follow Thee.

3 There, if Thy Spirit touch the soul,
And grace her mean abode,