Where Jesus sheds the brightest beams
Of his o'erflowing grace!
2 Sweet majesty and awful love
Sit smiling on his brow;
And all the glorious ranks above,
At humble distance bow.
3 Archangels sound his lofty praise,
Through every heavenly street;
And lay their heavenly honors down,
Submissive, at his feet.
4 This is the man, th' exalted man,
Whom we, unseen, adore;
But when our eyes behold his face,
Our hearts shall love him more.
5 Lord! how our souls are all on fire,
To see thy blest abode;
Our tongues rejoice in tunes of praise
To our incarnate God.
Prophet, Priest, and King.
1 JOIN all the glorious names Of wisdom, love, and power,
That ever mortals knew,
That angels ever bore:
All are too mean to speak his worth,
Too mean to set my Saviour forth.
2 Great Prophet of our God!
Our tongues would bless thy name;
By thee the joyful news
Of our salvation came ;
The joyful news of sins forgiven,
Of hell subdued, and peace with heaven.
3 Jesus, our great High-Priest, Hath shed his blood and died;
My guilty conscience needs
No sacrifice beside:
His precious blood did once atone,
And now it pleads before the throne.
4 0 thou almighty Lord,
Our conqueror and our King!
Thy sceptre and thy sword,
Thy reigning grace we sing ;
Thine is the power; Oh! make us sit,
In willing bonds, beneath thy feet.
1 AWAKE, my soul! in joyful lays,
And sing thy great Redeemer's praise;
He justly claims a song from me ;—
His loving-kindness,-Oh! how free!
2 He saw me ruined by the fall,
Yet loved me notwithstanding all;
He saved me from my lost estate ;—
His loving-kindness,-Oh! how great!
3 When trouble, like a gloomy cloud,
Has gathered thick, and thundered loud,
He near my soul has always stood ;—
His loving-kindness,-Oh! how good!
4 Soon shall I pass the gloomy vale-
Soon all my mortal powers shall fail;
Oh! may my last expiring breath
His loving-kindness sing in death.
5 Then let me mount, and soar away
To the bright world of endless day;
And sing, with rapture and surprise,
His loving-kindness in the skies.
1 NOT all the blood of beasts,
On Jewish altars slain,
Could give the guilty conscience peace,
Or wash away the stain.
2 But Christ, the heavenly Lamb,
Takes all our sins away;-
A sacrifice of nobler name,
And richer blood than they.
3 My faith would lay her hand
On that dear head of thine,
While, like a penitent, I stand,
And there confess my sin.
4 My soul looks back to see
The burdens thou didst bear,
When hanging on th' accursed tree,—
And hopes her guilt was there.
5 Believing, we rejoice
To see the curse remove;
We bless the Lamb, with cheerful voice,
And sing his bleeding love.
1 YE angels! who stand round the throne,
And view my Immanuel's face,—
In rapturous songs make him known,
Tune-tune your soft harps to his praise:
He formed you the spirits you are,
So happy, so noble, so good;
When others sunk down in despair,
Confirmed by his power, ye stood.
2 Ye saints! who stand nearer than they,
And cast your bright crowns at his feet,-
His grace and his glory display,
And all his rich mercies repeat:
He snatched you from hell and the grave,
He ransomed from death and despair:
For you he was mighty to save,—
Almighty to bring you safe there.
3 Oh! when will the moment appear,
When I shall unite in your song?
I'm weary of lingering here,
And I to your Saviour belong:
I'm fettered, and chained here in clay,-
I struggle and pant to be free;
I long to be soaring away,
My God and my Saviour to see.
4 I long to put on my attire,—
Washed white in the blood of the Lamb;
I long to be one of your choir,
And tune my sweet harp to his name;
I long-Oh! I long to be there,
Where sorrow and sin bid adieu,—
Your joy and your friendship to share,-
To wonder, and worship with you.
The Name of Christ a sweet Savor.
1 PRAISE to the Lord on high,
Who spreads his triumphs wide!
While Jesus' fragrant name
Is breathed on every side;
Balmy and rich the odors rise,
And fill the earth, and reach the skies.
2 Ten thousand dying souls
Its influence feel and live,
Sweeter than vital air
The incense they receive :
They breathe anew, and rise and sing-
Jesus, the Lord, their conquering King.
3 But they, who scorn the grace
That brings salvation nigh,
And turn away their face,
Must faint, and fall, and die:
So sad a doom, ye saints! deplore,
For Oh! they fall to rise no more.
Christ present with his People.
1 HOW sweet to leave the world awhile,
And seek the presence of our Lord!
Dear Saviour! on thy people smile,
And come, according to thy word.
2 From busy scenes we now retreat,
That we may here converse with thee:
Ah! Lord! behold us at thy feet;-
Let this the "gate of heaven" be.
3 "Chief of ten thousand!" now appear,
That we by faith may see thy face:
Oh! speak, that we thy voice may hear,
And let thy presence fill this place.
C. M.
Excellency of Christ.
1 INFINITE loveliness is thine,
Thou glorious Prince of grace!
Thine uncreated beauties shine,
With never-fading rays.
2 Sinners, from earth's remotest end,
Come bending at thy feet;
To thee their prayers and songs ascend,
In thee their wishes meet.
3 Millions of happy spirits live
On thine exhaustless store;
From thee they all their bliss receive,
And heaven can give no more.
4 Thou art their triumph and their joy,—
They find their life in thee;
Thy glories will their tongues employ,
Through all eternity.
1 JESUS! and shall it ever be
A mortal man ashamed of thee?
Ashamed of thee, whom angels praise,
Whose glories shine through endless days?
2 Ashamed of Jesus !-sooner far
Let evening blush to own a star;
He sheds the beams of light divine,
O'er this benighted soul of mine.
3 Ashamed of Jesus-that dear friend
On whom my hopes of heaven depend?
No!-when I blush, be this my shame,—
That I no more revere his name.
4 Ashamed of Jesus ?-yes, I may,
When I've no guilt to wash away,-
No tear to wipe,-no good to crave,—
No fears to quell,-no soul to save.
5 Till then-nor is my boasting vain-
Till then, I boast a Saviour slain !
And Oh! may this my glory be—
That Christ is not ashamed of me.
1 RAISE your triumphant songs
To an immortal tune;
Let the wide earth resound the deeds
Celestial grace has done.
2 Sing-how eternal love
Its chief beloved chose,
|