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2 Art thou not mine, my living Lord?
And can my hope, my comfort, die,
Fix'd on thine everlasting word,
That word which built the earth and

3 If my immortal Saviour lives,
Then my immortal life is sure;
His word a firm foundation gives;
Here let me build, and rest secure.
4 Here let my faith unshaken dwell;
Immovable the promise stands ;
Nor all the powers of earth, or hell,
Can e'er dissolve the sacred bands.

5 Here, O my soul, thy trust repose;
If JESUS is for ever mine,

Not death itself, that last of foes,
Shall break an union so divine.

61. The Light of his People. 8-7.

The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light; they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.-ISAIAH ix. 2.

LIGHT of those whose dreary dwelling

Borders on the shades of death, Come, and by thy love's revealing, Dissipate the clouds beneath!

The new heav'n and earth's creator,
In our deepest darkness rise!
Scatt'ring all the night of nature,
Pouring day-light on our eyes!
2 Still we wait for thine appearing :
Life and joy thy beams impart,
Chasing all our fears, and cheering
Ev'ry poor benighted heart:
Come and manifest the favour
God hath for our ransom'd race;
JESUS come, exalted Saviour,
Manifest thy Gospel-grace!

3 Save us in thy great compassion,
O thou mild pacific prince!
Give the knowledge of salvation,
Give the pardon of our sins!
By thine all-sufficient merit,
Ev'ry burden'd soul release;
Ev'ry weary, wand'ring spirit
Guide into thy perfect peace.

62. Melchisedec. C. M.

Whither the forerunner is for us entered, even JESUS, made an High Priest for ever, after the order of Melchisedec.-HEB. vi. 20.

JESU, Redeemer, dying Lamb!
We love to hear of thee;

No sound so charming as thy name,
Nor half so sweet can be!

20 may we ever hear thy voice,
In mercy to us speak!

And in our Priest shall we rejoice,
Thou great Melchisedec.

3 JESUS shall be our joyful theme,
While in this world we stay;
And still we'll sing his glorious name,
When all things else decay.

4 When we appear in yonder cloud
With all his favour'd throng;

Then will we sing more sweet, and loud,

And JESUS be our song.

63. Physician of Souls. L. M.

Is there no balm in Gilead, is there no Physician there? JER. viii. 22.

DEEP are the wounds which sin has made,

Where shall the sinner find a cure?
In vain, alas! is Nature's aid;
The work exceeds all Nature's pow'r.

2 Sin, like a raging fever reigns
With fatal strength in ev'ry part;
The dire contagion fills the veins,
And spreads its poison to the heart.


3 And can no sov'reign balm be found? And is no kind Physician nigh To ease the pain, and heal the wound, Ere life and hope for ever fly? 4 There is a great Physician near; Look up, O fainting soul, and live: See, in his boundless grace appear Such ease as nature cannot give! 5 See, in the Saviour's dying blood, Life, health, and bliss, abundant flow; 'Tis only this dear sacred flood

Can ease thy pain and heal thy woe.

6 Sin throws in vain its pointed dart;
For here a sov'reign cure is found-
A cordial for the fainting heart,
A balm for every painful wound.

64. The Portion of his People. C.M.

The Lord is my portion saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him.-LAM. iii. 24.

FROM pole to pole, let others roam,
And search in vain for bliss;
My soul is satisfied at home,
The Lord my portion is..

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2 JESUS, who on his glorious throne
Rules heav'n, and earth, and sea,
Is pleas'd to claim me for his own,
And give himself to me..

3 His grace and mercy fix my love, i
His blood removes my fear
And, while he pleads for me above,
His arm preserves me here.

4 His word of promise is my food,
His Spirit is my guide:

Thus daily is my strength renew'd,
And all my wants supplied.

5 For him, I count as gain each loss,
Him, though despis'd, I'll own;
Well may I glory in his cross,
While he prepares my crown!


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Precious to his People. C.M.

Unto you, therefore, which believe, he is precious.1 PETER i. 7.

JESUS, I love thy charming name, "Tis music to my ear;

Fain would I sound it out so loud
That earth and heav'n might hear.

2 Yes, thou art precious to my soul!
My transport and my trust:
Jewels to thee are gaudy toys,
And gold is sordid dust.

3 All my capacious powers can wish,
In thee doth richly meet;

Nor to my eyes is light so dear,
Nor friendship half so sweet.

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