HYMN CXX. Long Metre.

Justice.

1 IF high or low our station be, Of noble or ignoble name,

By uncorrupt integrity,

#or b

Thy blessing, Lord, we humbly claim.
2 The upright man no want shall fear;
Thy providence shall be his trust ;
Thou wilt provide his portion here,
Thou friend and guardian of the just.
3 May we, with most sincere delight,
To all, the test of duty pay;
Tender of every social right,
Obedient to thy righteous sway.
4 Such virtue thou wilt not forget,
In that blest world, where virtue shares
A fit reward; though not of debt,
But what thy boundless grace prepares.

Reformed Liturgy.

HYMN CXXI.

Short Metre.

b

Compassion and Forgiveness.

1 I HEAR the voice of wo!
I hear a brother's sigh!

Then let my heart with pity flow,
With tears of love, mine eye.

2. I hear the thirsty cry!

The hungry beg for bread!

Then let my spring its stream supply,
My hand its bounty shed.

3 The debtor humbly sues,

Who would, but cannot pay;

And shall I lenity refuse,

Who need it every day?

4 Shall not my wrath relent,
Touch'd by that humble strain,
My brother crying, "I repent,
"Nor will offend again?"

5 If not, how shall I dare

Appear before thy face,

Great God! and how present the prayer
For thy forgiving grace?

6 They, who forgive, shall find
Remission, in that day,
When all the merciful and kind
Thy pity shall repay.

7 But all, who here below

Mercy refuse tb grant,

Shall judgment without mercy know,
When mercy most they want.

ENFIELD.

HYMN CXXII. Common Metre.
Not ashamed of the Gospel.

1 I'M not asham'd to own my Lord,
Or to defend his cause;
Maintain the honour of his word,
The glory of his cross.

2 Jesus, my God, I know his name,
His name is all my trust;

Nor will he put my soul to shame,
Nor let my hope be lost.

3 Firm as his throne, his promise stands,
And he can well secure
What I've committed to his hands,
Till the decisive hour.

4 Then will he own my worthless name
Before his Father's face;

1 IMPOSTURE shrinks from light,
And dreads the curious eye;
But Christian truths the test invite,
They bid us search and try.

2 A meek inquiring mind,

Lord, help us to maintain ;
That growing knowledge we may find,
And growing virtue gain.

3 With understanding blest,
Created to be free,

Our faith on man we dare not rest,
Subject to none but thee.

4 Give us the light we need,

Our minds with knowledge fill;
From noxious error guard our creed,
From prejudice, our will.

5 The truth thou shalt impart,
May we with firmness own;
Abhorring each evasive art,
And fearing thee alone.

HYMN CXXIV.

DODBRIDGE

Common Metre.

A Song of Praise.

1 INDULGENT Father, how divine,

How bright thy glories are!

Through nature's ample round they shine,
Thy goodness to declare.

2 But in the nobler work of grace,
What winning mercy smiles
In my divine Redeemer's face,
And every fear beguiles.

3 Such wonders, Lord, while I survey,
To thee, my thanks shall rise,
When morning ushers in the day,
Or evening veils the skies.

4 When glimmering life resigns its flame
Thy praise shall tune my breath;
The sweet remembrance of thy name
Shall gild the shades of death.

5 But, O how blest my song shall rise,
When freed from feeble clay;

And all thy glories meet mine eyes,
In one eternal day!

.

6 Not seraphs who resound thy name,
Through the etherial plains,

Shall glow with a diviner flame,
Or raise sublimer strains.

HYMN CXXV.

SOWDEN.

Common Metre.

An Evening Hymn.

1 INDULGENT God, whose bounteous care O'er all thy works is shown,

O let my grateful praise and prayer
Arise before thy throne !

2 What mercies has this day bestow'd!
How largely hast thou blest!
My cup with plenty overflow'd,
With cheerfulness my breast.

3 Now may soft slumbers close my eyes,
From pain and sickness free;

And let my waking thoughts arise,
To meditate on thee.

4 Thus bless each future day and night,
Till life's vain scene is o'er ;

And then, to realms of endless light,
O let my spirit soar !

Liverpool Collection.

HYMN CXXVI. Common Metre.
Looking to Him whom we have pierced.
1 INFINITE grief! amazing wo!
Behold our bleeding Lord!
Hell and the Jews conspir'd his death,
And us'd the Roman sword.

2 O, the sharp pangs of pain and grief,
That our Redeemer bore!

When scourging whips and pointed thorns
His sacred body tore !

3 But scourging whips and pointed thorns
In vain do we accuse;

In vain we blame the Roman bands,
And the more spiteful Jews:

4 Our sins, alas! our cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were;
Each of our crimes became a nail,

And unbelief the spear.

5 Strike, mighty grace, our flinty souls,
Till melting waters flow;

And deep contrition drown our eyes,
In undissembled wo.

6 But flowing tears cannot suffice,

To make repentance sure;

Then let our hearts be purified,
As Christ the Lord is pure.

WATTS.

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