But heav'nly Majesty comes down,

And bows to hearken to our tongues.

e 3 Great God! what poor returns we pay,
For love so infinite as thine:

Words are but air, and tongues but clay,
But thy compassion's all divine.

HYMN 46. L.M.

1

Weldon. Portugal. [*]

GOD's Condescension to Human Affairs.
to the Lord, who reigns on high,

Und views the nations from afar,

o Let everlasting praises fly,

And tell how large his bounties are.

p 2 [He who can shake the worlds he made,
Or with his word, or with his rod,-
His goodness, how amazing great,
And what a condescending God!]

e 3 God, who must stoop to view the skies,
And bow to see what angels do--
Down to the earth he casts his eyeşin
And bends his footsteps downward too.
-4 He overrules all mortal things,
And manages our mean affairs:
On humble souls the King of kings
Bestows his counsels and his cares.
e 5 Our sorrows and our tears we pour
Into the bosom of our God;

He hears us in the mournful hour,
And helps to bear the heavy load.
-6 In vain might lofty princes try
Such condescension to perform;
For worms were never rais'd so high,
Above their meanest fellow-worm.

07 Oh! could our thankful hearts devise
A tribute equal to thy grace→→→

o To the third heav'n our songs should rise,
And teach the golden harps thy praise.
HYMN 47. L. M. Green's. Nantwich. [*]
Glory and Grace in the Person of CHRIST.

。 1 NOW to the Lord a noble song!

Awake, my soul; awake, my tongue;

Hosanna to th' Eternal Name,

u And all his boundless love proclaim

b 2 See where it shines in Jesus' face, The brightest image of his grace; -God, in the person of his Son,

Has all his mightiest works outdone.

e 3 The spacious earth, and spreading flood,
Proclaim the wise, the pow'rful God;
And thy rich glories from afar,
Sparkle in ev'ry rolling star:-

o 4 But in his looks a glory stands,
The noblest labour of thine hands:
The pleasing lustre of his eyes
Outshines the wonders of the skies.
a 5 Grace! 'tis a sweet, a charming themes,
-My thoughts rejoice at Jesus' name!
o Ye angels dwell upon the sound;
u Ye heav'ns reflect it to the ground!
-6 Oh, may live to reach the place,
Where he unveils his lovely face!
o Where all his beauties you behold;
And sing his name to harps of gold.
HYMN 48. C. M. Reading. Walsal. [b]
Love to the Creatures dangerous.

OW vain are all things here below,
How false, and yet how fair!

Each pleasure hath its poison too,
And ev'ry sweet a snare.

2 The brightest things below the sky,
Give but a flatt'ring light;

We should suspect some danger nigh,
Where we possess delight.

3 Our dearest joys, and nearest friends,
The partners of our blood--
How they divide our wav'ring minds,
And leave but half for God!

4 The fondness of a creature's love,
How strong it strikes the sense?
Thither the warm affections move,
Nor can we call them thence,

o 5 Dear Saviour, let thy beauties be
My soul's eternal food;

• And grace command my heart away From all created good.

1 [

HYMN 49. C. M. [*)
Moses Dying in the Embraces of Gon.

DEATH cannot make our souls afraid,

If God be with us there;

We may walk through the darkest shade, And never yield to fear.

2 I could renounce my all below, If my Creator bid;

And run, if I were call'd to go,

And die as Moses did.

3 Might I but climb to Pisgah's top,
And view the promis'd land;
My flesh itself would long to drop,
And pray for the command.

4 Clasp'd in my heav'nly Father's arms,
I would forget my breath;

And lose my life among the charms
Of so divine a death.]

HYMN 50. L. M. [*]

Comforts under Sorrows and Pains.

1 [OW let the Lord my Saviour smile, And shew my name upon his heart;

I would forget my pains awhile,
And in the pleasure lose the smart.
2 But oh! it swells my sorrows high,
To see my blessed Jesus frown;
My spirits sink, my comforts die,
And all the springs of life are down.
3 Yet, why, my soul, why these complaints?
Still, while he frowns, his bowels move:
Still on his heart he bears his saints,
And feels their sorrows, and his love.
4 My name is printed on his breast;
His book of life contains my name;
I'd rather have it there impress'd,
Than in the bright records of fame.

5 When the last fire burns all things here,
Those letters shall securely stand,
And in the Lamb's fair book appear,
Writ by the eternal Father's hand.
6 Now shall my minutes smoothly run,
Whilst here I wait my Father's will;
My rising, and my setting, sun
Roll gently up and down the hill.]

HYMN 51. L. M. Blendon. [*]
GOD the Son equal with the Father.

P1B Our spirits bow before thy seat;

RIGHT King of glory, dreadful God!

To thee we lift an humble thought,
And worship at thine awful feet.

2 [Thy pow'r hath form'd, thy wisdom sways, All nature with a sov'reign word: And the bright world of stars obeys The will of their superior Lord. -3 Mercy and truth unite in one, And smiling sit at thy right hand; g Eternal justice guards thy throne,

And vengeance waits thy dread command.] -4 A thousand seraphs, strong and bright,, Stand round the glorious Deity:

But who, amongst the sons of light,
Pretends comparison with thee?
o 5 Yet there is one of human frame,
Jesus, array'd in flesh and blood,
Thinks it no robbery to claim

A full equality with God.

-6 Their glory shines with equal beams;
Their essence is for ever one;

Tho' they are known by diff'rent names,
The Father God, and God the Son.

o 7 Then let the Name of Christ our King,
With equal honours be ador'd;

His praise let ev'ry angel sing,
And all the nations own him Lord.

HYMN 52. C. M. Bangor. [b]
Death dreadful or delightful.

1 [DEATH' 'tis a melancholy day,

To those who have no God,

When the poor soul is forc'd away

To seek her last abode.

2 In vain to heav'n she lifts her eyes;
But guilt, a heavy chain,

Still drags her downward from the skies,
To darkness, fire, and pain.

3 Awake, and mourn, ye heirs of hell,
Let stubborn sinners fear;

You must be driv'n from earth to dwell
A long FOREVER there!

4 See how the pit gapes wide for you,
And flashes in your face;

And thou, my soul, look downward too,
And sing recov'ring grace.

5 He is a God of sov'reign love,
Who promis'd heaven to me;
And taught my soul to soar above,
Where happy spirits be.

6 Prepare me, Lord, for thy right hand,
Then come the joyful day;

Come, death, and some celestial band,
To bear my soul away.]

e 1

HYMN 53. C. M

Zion, [b*]

The Pilgrimage of the Saints.
ORD, what a wretched land is this,
That yields us no supply;

No cheering fruits, no wholesome trees,
Nor streams of living joy!

2 But pricking thorns thro' all the ground, And mortal poisons grow;

And all the rivers that are found,
With dangerous waters flow.

o 3 Yet the dear path to thine abode:
Lies through this horrid land:

Lord! we would keep the heav'nly road,
And run at thy command.

4 [Our souls shall tread the desart through, With undiverted feet;

And faith and flaming zeal subdue

The terrours that we meet.]

e 5 (A thousand savage beasts of prey Around the forest roam;

o But Judah's Lion guards the way,

And guides the strangers home.)

e 6 Long nights and darkness dwell below, With scarce a twinkling ray;

o But the bright world to which we go, Is everlasting day.

-7 By glimm'ring hopes, and gloomy fears, We trace the sacred road;