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LVI.

Zeck. xiii. 1.

THERE is a fountain filled with blood,

Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood,

Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see

That fountain in his day;
And there have I more vile than he,
Washed all

my

sins away.

Ere since by grace,

I saw the stream, Thy bleeding wounds supply; Redeeming love hath been my theme,

And shall be till I die.

Dear Holy Lamb, thy precious blood

Shall never lose its power;
Till all the ransomed church of God

Be saved to sin no more.

Then in far nobler, sweeter songs,

We'll sing thy power to save; When these poor lisping stammering tongues Rise glorious from the grave.

We'll sing the fountain filled with blood,

Drawn from Immanuel's veins, Where sinners washed and in whose flood,

Lost all their guilty stains.

LVII.

2 Sam. xxiii. 5.

My God the cov'nant of thy love

Abides for ever sure :
And in its sov'reign grace I prove

My happiness secure.

What though my house be not with thee,

As nature could desire;
To nobler joys than nature gives,

Thy servants all aspire.

Since Thou, on whom my hopes depend,

My Father art become;
Jesus, my Guardian and my Friend,

And heaveil my final home;

I welcome all thy sov'reign will,

For all that will is love; Resign'd, when clouds thy mind conceal,

To wait the light above,

Yea, comfort in the darkest gloom,

Thy cov'nant shall impart; And keep (when dying moments come,)

And still sustain my heart.

LVIII.

2 Tim, i. 12.
"Tis mine! the cov’nant of his grace,

And every promise mine!
All sprung from everlasting love,

And sealed by blood divine.

On mine unworthy, favour'd head,

Its blessings all unite; Blessings more numerous then the stars,

More lasting and more bright.

Ev'n Death and Hell in vain conspire

To break that sacred rest,
Which God's believing children feel,

While leaning on his breast.

Th' enlarged soul they cannot reach,

Nor rend from Christ away; Tho'o'er my mouldering frame they boast

The triumphs of a day.

The night is past, the morning dawns,

My Cov'nant God descends! Soon shall my quicken'd dust arise

To bliss that never ends.

LIX.

ls, lxi. I.

Jesus heals the broken-hearted,

Oh! how sweet that sound to me! Once beneath my sin he smarted,

Groan d, and bled, to set me free.

By his suff'rings, death, and merits,

By his Godhead, blood, and pain, Broken hearts, or wounded spirits,

Are at once made whole again.

Oil and wine, to heal and cherish,

Jesus still to Israel gives;
Nor shall e'er one sinner perish,

Who in his great name believes.

In his righteousness confiding,

Shelter'd safe beneath his wing, Here they find a sure abiding,

Here of cov‘nant mercy sing.

LX.

Rev. v. 9. &c.
Come let us join our cheerful songs,

With angels round the throne;
Ten thousand thousand are their tongues,

But all their joys are one. “Worthy the Lamb that died,” they cry,

“To be exalted thus ;" “Worthy the Lamb,” our hearts reply,

“For he was slain for us."

Jesus is worthy to receive
Honour and

power divine;
And blessings more than we can give,

Be Lord for ever thine.

Let all creation join in one,

To bless the sacred name
Of him who sits upon the throne,
And to adore the Lamb.

LXI.

Phil. iii. 9.
Jesus, thy righteousness divine,

Is all my glory, all my trust;
Nor need I fear since that is mine,

While Jesus lives, and God is just.

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