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His loving heart is still
Eternally the fame :
My foul thro' many changes goes;
His love no variation knows.
3 Thou, Lord, wilt carry on,
And perfectly perform
The work, thou haft begun
In me a finful worm:
Midft all my fears, and fin and woe.
Thy fpirit will not let me go.
The bowels of thy grace
At first did freely move:
I ftill fhall fee thy face,
And feel that God is love,
Myfelf into thy arms I caft ;
Lord, fave, O fave my foul at laft.
HYMN CLVI. L. M, [RIPPON'S COLL.]
The Loving Kindness of the Lord Jesus.
AWAKE my foul, in joyful lays,
And fing thy great Redeemer's praise : He juftly claims a fong from me, His loving kindness, O how free! 2 He faw me ruin'd in the fall, Yet lov'd me notwithstanding all; He fav'd me from my lost estate, His loving kindness, O how great! 3 Tho' num'rous hofts of mighty foes, Tho' earth, and hell my way oppofe, He fafely leads my foul along, His loving kindness, O how Arong!
4 When trouble, like a gloomy cloud,
Has gather'd thick, and thunder'd loud,
He near my foul has always ftood,
His loving kindness, O how good!
5 Often I feel my finful heart,
Prone from my Jefus to depart;
But tho' I have him oft forgot,
His loving kindness changes not.
6 Soon fhall I pafs the gloomy vale,
Soon all my mortal pow'rs must fail
Oh! may my laft expiring breath,
His loving kindness fing in death.
7 Then let me mount and foar away,
To the bright world of endless day;
And fing with rapture, and furprife,
His loving kindness, in the fkies.
HYMN CLVII. C. M.
Begotten again unto a lively Hope...
LESS'D be the everlasting God,
The Father of our Lord:
Be his abounding mercy prais❜d,
His majesty ador'd.
2 When from the dead he rais'd his Son, And call'd him to the sky,
He gave our fouls a lively hope,
That they should never die.
3 What tho' our inbred fins require Our flesh to see the duft,
Yet as the Lord our Saviour rofe,
So all his foll'wrs muft.
There's an inheritance divine
Referv'd against that day;
'Tis uncorrupted, undefil'd,
And cannot waste away.
5 Saints by the pow'r of God are kept, 'Till the falvation come :
We walk by faith, as ftrangers here, 'Till Chrift fhall call us home.
L. M. [RIPPON'S COLL.] The Hope, which is the Anchor of the Soud. GOD, my Sun, thy blissful rays
Irradiate, warm, and guide my heart! How dark, how mournful are my days, If thy enliv'ning beams depart!
2 Scarce thro' the fhades, a glimpse of day,
Appears to thefe defiring eyes!
But fhall my drooping spirit fay,
The cheerful morn will never rife?
5 O let me not defpairing mourn,
Tho' gloomy darknefs spreads the sky;
My glorious fun will yet return,
And night with all its horrors fly.
4 O for the bright, the joyful day,
When hope fhall in affurance die !
So tapers lose their feeble ray,
Beneath the fun's refulgent eye.
In Hope, Hoping against Hope.
WHY finks my weak desponding mind?
Can fov'reign goodness be unkind?
Am I not fafe if God is nigh:
2 He holds all nature in his hand :
That gracious hand on which I live,
Does life, and time, and death command,
And has inmortal joys to give.
3 'Tis he fupports this fainting frame,
On him alone my hopes recline;
The wond'rous glories of his name,
How wide they spread! how bright they fhine!
4 Infinite wifdom! boundless pow'r !
Unchanging faithfulness and love!
Here let me truft, while I adore,
Nor from my refuge e'er remove.
5 My God, if thou art mine indeed,
Then I have all my heart can crave;
A prefent help in times of need,
Still kind to hear, and strong to fave.
6 Forgive my doubts, O gracious Lord,
And ease the forrows of my breaft;
Speak to my heart the healing word,
That thou art mine; and I am bleft.
HYMN CXL. S. M. [BEDDOME.]
Jefus, the Author, and finisher of Faith.
FAITH! 'tis a precious grace,
Where'er it is beftow'd!
It boasts of a celestial birth,
And is the gift of God!
2. Jefus it owns a king, An all atoning Priest,
It claims no merit of its own,
But looks for all in Christ.
3 To him it leads the fouls,
When fill'd with deep diftrefs;
Flies to the fountain of his blood,
And trufts his righteousness.
4 Since 'tis thy work alone,
And that divinely free;
Lord, fend the fpirit of thy Son,
To work this faith in me.
HYMN CLXI. C. M. [DODDRIDGE.
Chrift, Precious to them that Believe. JESUS, I love thy charming name,
mufick to my ear;
Fain would I found it out fo loud,
That earth and heav'n might hear.
Yes, thou art precious to my foul,
My tranfport and my truft ;
Jewels, to thee are gaudy toys,
And gold, is fordid duft.
8 All my capacious pow'rs can wifh
In thee, doth richly meet;
Nor to my eyes is light fo dear,
Nor friendship half fo fweet.
4 Thy grace fhall dwell upon my heart,
And thed its fragrance there;
The nobleft balm of all its wounds,
The cordial of its care.
5 I'll speak the honours of thy name, With my laft lab'ring breath!