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Th' aftonifh'd Seraph bow'd his head,
5 Made ftrong in ftrength renew'd from heav'n,
He drinks; nor leaves a dreg behind;
HYMN LXXXVI. S. M. [PEACOCK.].
The Lamb of God who beareth away fin.
W Did from their maker stray,
With pity mol divine,
From his bright throne above
3 Involv'd in guilt he found
The whole apoftate race;
Where fin and guilt did moft abound,
4 While heirs of wrath we ftood,
Salvation, in Jefus, on the Crofs.
Beneath the droppings of thy blood, Jefus, nor fhall it e'er remove. 2 Not all that tyrants think or fay, With rage and lightning in their eyes, Nor hell fhall fright my heart away, Should hell with all its legions rife. 3 Should worlds confpire to drive me thence, Movelefs and firm this heart fhould lie; Refolv'd (for that's my laft defence) If 1 muft perish there to die.
4 But fpeak, my Lord, and calm my
5 Yes, I'm fecure beneath thy blood,
2 But life attends the deathful found,
To fuffer in the traitor's place,
HYMN LXXXVIII. L. M. [STRELE.]
Yet pafs rebellious angels by ;
O, why for man, dear Saviour, why!
4 And didit thou bleed, for finners bleed ?
5 Can I furvey this fcene of woe,
6 Come, dearest Lord, thy pow'r impart,
HYMN LXXXIX. L. M. [S. STENNET.] The Triumphs of the Dying Saviour. No more, dear Saviour, will I boast
Of beauty, wealth, or loud applaufe:
Beauty her fairest charms displays;
3 Thy wealth, the pow'r of thought transcends, 'Tis vast, immense, and all divine ; Thy empire, Lord, o'er worlds extends; The fun, the moon, the stars are thine.
4 Yet, (O how marvellous the fight !) I fee thee on a cross expire ;
Thy Godhead veil'd in fable night,
5 But, why from these fad fcenes retreat
Surprife, rejoice, and melt my heart;
HYMN XC. L. M.
The Son of Man lifted up.
E dies! the friend of finners dies! Lo Salem's daughters weep around! A folemn darkness veils the skies! A fudden trembling fhakes the ground! Come, faints, and drop a tear or two, For him who groan'd beneath your load! He fhed a thousand drops for you! A thousand drops of richest blood! 2 Here's love and grief beyond degree, The Lord of glory dies for men ! But lo! what fudden joys we fee! Jefus the dead revives again! The rifing God forfakes the tomb ! The tomb in vain forbids his rife ! Cherubic legions guard him home, And fhout him welcome to the fkies! 3 Break off your tears, ye Saints! and tell How high our great deliv'rer reigns! Sing how he spoil'd the hofs of hell,
And led the monster death in chains :
HYMN XCI. L. M. [RICHARDS.]
The fword bathed in Heaven.
IWAKE thou my fword! Jehovah faid,
5 The heav'ns may perish; earth decay ;
6 What he began, ere time begun, Eternity fhall but complete;