2 But in the grace that rescu'd man,
His brightest form of glory shines;
Here on the cross, 'tis fairest drawn
In precious blood, and crimson lines.
3 Here his whole name appears complete;
Nor wit can guess, nor reason prove,
Which of the letters best is writ,

The pow'r, the wisdom, or the love. 4 Here I behold his inmost heart,

Where grace and vengeance strangely join, Piercing his Son with sharpest smart, To make eternal pleasures mine.

5 O! the sweet wonders of that cross,

Where God the Saviour lov'd and died! Her noblest life my spirit draws

From his dear wounds and bleeding side. 6 I would for ever speak his name,

1

In sounds to mortal ears unknown;
With angels join to praise the Lamb,
And worship at his Father's throne.

531. L. M. Dr. Watts.
The Gospel Feast. Luke xiv. 16, &c.

H Thy table furnish'd from above!
TOW rich are thy provisions, Lord!

The fruits of life o'erspread the board, The cup o'erflows with heav'nly love. 2 Thy ancient family, the Jews,

Were first invited to the feast;

We humbly take what they refuse,
And Gentiles thy salvation taste.

3 We are the poor, the blind, the lame, And help was far, and death was nigh! But at thy gospel cail we came,

And every want receiv'd supply.
4 From the highway that leads to hell,
From paths of darkness and despair,
Lord, we are come with thee to dwell,
Glad to enjoy thy presence here.

532. C. M. Dr. Watts.

Our Lord Jesus at his own Table.

1'THE mem'ry of our dying Lord

Awakes a thankful tongue:
How rich he spread his royal board,
And blest the food, and sung!

2 Happy the man that eats this bread;
But doubly blest was he

That gently bow'd his loving head,
And lean'd it, Lord, on thee.

3 By faith the same delights we taste,
As that great fav'rite did,

And sit and lean on Jesus' breast,
And take the heav'nly bread.

533. C. M. Dr. Watts.

The Same.

Do Wither the King descends;

OWN from the palace of the skies,

Come, my beloved, eat (he cries)
"And drink salvation, friends."
2 Hosanna to his bounteous love,
For such a feast below!

And yet he feeds his saints above
With nobler blessings too.

3 Come, the dear day, the glorious hour
That brings our souls to rest;
Then we shall need these types no more,
But dwell at th' heavenly feast.

534. C. M. Mr. Steele.

Praise to the Redeemer.

O our Redeemer's glorious name
Awake the sacred song!

O may his love (immortal flame!)
Tune every heart and tongue.
2 His love, what mortal thought can reach,
What mortal tongue display?
Imagination's utmost stretch

In wonder dies away.

3 He left his radiant throne on high,
Left the bright realms of bliss,

And came to earth to bleed and die!
Was ever love like this?

4 Dear Lord! while we, adoring, pay
Our humble thanks to thee;

May every heart with rapture say,
The Saviour died for me.

5 O may the sweet, the blissful theme
Move every heart and tongue;

Till strangers love thy charming name, And join the sacred song!

1

535. S. M. Dr. Watts.
Redeeming Grace.

LET our tour God on
To praise our God on high;
Who from his bosom sent his Son
To fetch us strangers nigh.
2 Nor let our voices cease

To sing the Saviour's name;
Jesus, th' ambassador of peace,
How cheerfully he came!
3 It cost him cries and tears,
To bring us near to God,
Great was our debt, and he appears
To make the payment good.

4 Look up, my soul, to him

Whose death was thy desert;
And humbly view the living stream
Flow from his breaking heart.
5 There on the cursed tree,

In dying pangs, he lies,
Fulfils his Father's great decree,
And all our wants supplies.

536. C. M. Dr. Watts.

Grace and Glory by the Death of Christ.

ITTING around our Father's board,
We raise a tuneful breath;

Our faith beholds our dying Lord,

And dooms cur sins to death.

2 We see the blood of Jesus shed,
Whence all our pardons rise,

The sinner views the atouement made,
And loves the sacrifice.

3 Thy cruel thorns, thy shameful cross,
Procure us heavenly crowns;
Our highest gain springs from thy loss,
Our healing from thy wounds.

4 Oh! 'tis impossible that we,

Who dwell in feeble clay,

Should equal sufferings bear for thee
Or equal thanks repay.

537. L. M. Dr. Stennett.

The Triumphs of the Cross.

'Noor beauty, wealth, or loud applause; U

more, dear Saviour, will I boast

The world hath all its glories lost, Amid the triumphs of thy cross. 2 In ev'ry feature of thy face,

Beauty her fairest charms displays; Truth, wisdom, majesty, and grace, Shine thence in sweetly-mingled rays. 3 Thy wealth the power of thought transcends, 'Tis vast, immense, and all divine: Thy empire, Lord, o'er worlds extends; The sun, the moon, the stars are thine. 4 Yet (O how marvellous the sight!) I see thee on a cross expire; Thy godhead veil'd in sable night, And angels from the scene retire. 5 But why from these sad scenes retreat? Why with your wings your faces hide? He ne'er appear'd so good, so great,

As when he bow'd his head and died.
6 Then view the suff'ring Son of God,
Behold what woes on him were hurl'd:
Beneath the weight he firmly stood,
And nobly sav'd a falling world.
7 These triumphs of stupendous grace,
Surprise, rejoice, and melt my heart;
Lord, at thy cross I stand and gaze,
Nor would I ever thence depart.

1

538. C. M. Mr. J. Stennett.

Humble Admiration.

LORD, at thy table we behold
The wonders of thy grace;
But most of all admire that we
Should find a welcome place:
21 that was all defil'd with sin,
A rebel to my God:

I that have crucify'd his Son,
And trampled on his blood!

3 What strange surprising grace is this,
That such a soul has room!

My Saviour takes me by the hand,
My Jesus bids me coine.

4" Eat, O my friends," the Saviour cries,
"The feast was made for you:

For you I groan'd, and bled, and died, "And rose and triumph'd too."

539. L. M. Dr. Watts.

The Cross of Christ. Gal. vi. 14.
WHEN I survey the wondrous cross

Won which the Prince of Glory died,

My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride.
2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast
Save in the cross of Christ my God;
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.

3 See from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown
4 His dying crimson, ike a robe,
Spreads o'er his body on the tree;
Then am I dead to ail the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.
5 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all. 540. C. M. Dr. Watts. 1HE promise of my Father's love Shall stand for ever good;

He said, and gave his soul to death,
And seal'd the grace with blood.
2 To this dear cov'nant of thy word,
I set my worthless name!

Confirm th' engagement to my Lord,
And make my humble claim.

3 The light, and strength, and pard'ning grace And glory shall be mine;

1

My soul, and life, and heart, and flesh,
And all my powers are thine.
541. S. M. Dr. Watts.

Communion with Christ, 1 Cor. x. 16, 17.
ESUS invites his saints

J

To meet around his board;

Here pardon'd rebels sit and hold
Communion with their Lord.

Our heav'nly Father calls

Christ and his members one;
We the young children of his love,
And he the first-born Son.