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But Christ, the heavenly Lamb,
Takes all our sins away;

A sacrifice of nobler name
And richer blood than they.

My faith would lay her hand On that dear head of Thine, While like a penitent I stand, And there confess my sin.

My soul looks back to see
The burdens Thou didst bear,
When hanging on the cursed tree,
And hopes her guilt was there.

Believing, we rejoice

To see the curse remove:

We bless the Lamb with cheerful voice, And sing His bleeding love.

Death and Emmediate Glory.

There is a house not made with hands,
Eternal and on high;

And here my spirit waiting stands,
Till God shall bid it fly.

Shortly this prison of my clay

Must be dissolved and fall; Then, O my soul, with joy obey Thy heav'nly Father's call.

'Tis He, by His Almighty grace,
That forms thee fit for heaven;
And, as an earnest of the place,
Has His own Spirit given.

We walk by faith of joys to come;
Faith lives upon His Word;
But while the body is our home,

We're absent from the Lord.

HYMNS.

"Tis pleasant to believe Thy grace,
But we had rather see;

We would be absent from the flesh,
And present, Lord, with Thee.

Moses Dying in the Embrace of God.

Death cannot make our souls afraid,
If God be with us there;

We may walk through its darkest shade,
And never yield to fear.

I could renounce my all below,
If my Creator bid;

And run, if I were call'd to go,

And die as Moses did.

Might I but climb to Pisgah's top,
And view the Promis'd Land,
My flesh itself would long to drop,
And pray for the command.

Clasp'd in my heav'nly Father's arms,
I would forget my breath,
And lose my life among the charms
Of so divine a death.

The Death and Burial of a Saint.

Why do we mourn departing friends?
Or shake at death's alarms?
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to His arms.

Are we not tending upward too

As fast as time can move?

Nor should we wish the hours more slow,
To keep us from our love.

Why should we tremble to convey

Their bodies to the tomb?

There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,

And left a long perfume.

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The graves of all His saints He bless'd
And soften'd every bed:

Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying Head?

Thence He arose, ascending high,
And shew'd our feet the way:
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,
At the great rising-day.

Then let the last loud trumpet sound,

And bid our kindred rise:
Awake, ye nations under ground;
Ye saints, ascend the skies.

The Shortness of Life, and the Goodness of God.

Time! what an empty vapour 'tis !

And days how swift they are!
Swift as an Indian arrow flies,
Or like a shooting-star.

Our life is ever on the wing,
And death is ever nigh;

The moment when our lives begin,
We all begin to die.

Yet, mighty God! our fleeting days
Thy lasting favours share;

Yet, with the bounties of Thy grace,
Thou load'st the rolling year.

'Tis sovereign mercy finds us food,
And we are clothed with love;
While grace stands pointing out the road
That leads our souls above.

His goodness runs an endless round:

All glory to the Lord!

His mercy never knows a bound;

And be His name adored!

PSALMS.

Thus we begin the lasting song ;

And, when we close our eyes,
Let the next age Thy praise prolong,

Till time and nature dies.

PSALMS.

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[As has already been stated, Dr Watts's Psalms are not mere renderings of the Hebrew Psalter into English metre, but an adaptation of the songs of Zion to the worship of the New Testament Church. Of this plan the following may serve as an exemplification:-]

Psalm viii.

O Lord, our Lord, how wondrous great

Is Thine exalted name!

The glories of Thy heavenly state,
Let men and babes proclaim.

When I behold Thy works on high,

The moon that rules the night,
And stars that well adorn the sky,
Those moving worlds of light:

Lord! what is man, or all his race,
Who dwells so far below,

That Thou shouldst visit him with grace,

And love his nature so?

That Thine eternal Son should bear

To take a mortal form;

Made lower than His angels are,

To save a dying worm!

Let Him be crown'd with majesty
Who bow'd His head to death;
And be His honours sounded high
By all things that have breath.

Jesus, our Lord, how wondrous great
Is Thine exalted name!

The glories of Thy heavenly state,

Let the whole earth proclaim.

Psalm Irrií.

Jesus shall reign where'er the sun
Does his successive journeys run;
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
Till moons shall wax and wane no more.

Behold the islands with their kings,
And Europe her best tribute brings;
From north to south, the princes meet
To pay their homage at His feet.

There Persia, glorious to behold,
There India shines in eastern gold;
And barbarous nations at His word
Submit, and bow, and own their Lord.

For Him shall endless prayer be made,
And praises throng to crown His head:
His name like sweet perfume shall rise
With every morning sacrifice.

People and realms of every tongue
Dwell on His love with sweetest song;
And infant voices shall proclaim
Their early blessings on His name.

Blessings abound where'er He reigns;
The prisoner leaps to lose his chains;
The weary find eternal rest,

And all the sons of want are bless'd.

Where He displays His healing power,

Death and the curse are known no more:

In Him the tribes of Adam boast

More blessings than their father lost.

Let every creature rise and bring
Peculiar honours to our King;
Angels descend with songs again,
And earth repeat the long Amen.

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