Send down a coal of heav'nly fire,
To warm each waiting heart.

2 Shew us some tokens of thy love,
Our fainting hope to raise;
And pour thy blessing from above,
That we may render praise.
3 Within these walls let holy praise,
And love and concord dwell:
Here give the troubled conscience ease,
The wounded spirit heal.

4 The feeling heart, the melting eye,
The humble mind bestow;
And shine upon us from on high,
To make our graces grow.

5 May we in faith receive thy word,
In faith present our pray❜rs;
And in the presence of our Lord,
Unbosom all our cares.

6 And may the gospel's joyful sound,
Enforc'd by mighty grace,

Awaken sinners all around
To come and fill the place.

HYMN 316.

L. M.

B

Portugal. Blendon.

Rom. viii. 14.

1 COME, gracious Spirit, heav'nly Dove,
With light and comfort from above,
Be thou our guardian, thou our guide,
O'er ev'ry thought and step preside.

2 Conduct us safe, conduct us far From ev'ry sin and hurtful snare; Lead to thy word that rules must give, And teach us lessons how to live. 3 The light of truth to us display,

And make us know and choose thy way; Plant holy fear in ev'ry heart,

That we from God may ne'er depart. 4 Lead us to holiness, the road

That we must take to dwell with God; Lead us to Christ, the living way, Nor let us from his pastures stray. 5 Lead us to God, our final rest, In his enjoyment to be bless'd; Lead us to heav'r, the seat of bliss, Where pleasure in perfection is. HYMN 317. L. M.

Portugal. Sabbaoth.

Fawcett.

Beginning of worship.

1 THY presence, gracious God, afford— Prepare us to receive thy word;

Now let thy voice engage our ear,
And faith be mix'd with what we hear.

2 Distracting thoughts and cares remove,
And fix our hearts and hopes above;
With food divine may we be fed,
And satisfied with living bread.

3 To us thy sacred word apply,
With sov'reign power and energy;

And may we in true faith and fear,
Reduce to practice what we hear.

HYMN 318.

L. M.

Steele.

Rothwell. Wells. Shoel.

Prayer for the presence of Christ. 1 LORD, in the temples of thy grace, Thy saints behold thy smiling face; And oft have seen thy glories shine With pow'r and majesty divine: 2 But soon, alas! thy absence mourn, And pray, and wish thy kind return, Without thy life-inspiring light, "Tis all a scene of gloomy night. 3 Come, dearest Lord, thy children cry Our graces droop, our comforts die; Return, and let thy glories rise Again, to our admiring eyes;

4 Till fill'd with light, and joy, and love,
Thy courts below, like those above,
Triumphant hallelujahs raise,

And heav'n and earth resound thy praiso
HYMN 319. C. M.

Bray. Colchester.

Steele.

1 COME, Lord, and warm each languid

heart

Inspire each lifeless tongue;

And let the joys of heav'n impart
Their influ'nce to our song.

2 Come, Lord, thy love alone can raise
In us the heav'nly flame;

Then shall our lips resound thy praise,
Our hearts adore thy name.

3 Dear Saviour, let thy glory shine,
And fill thy dwellings here,

Till life, and love, and joy divine
A heav'n on earth appear.

Armley. Darwent.

Tappan.

1 HOLY be this, as was the place, To him of Padan-aram known, Where Abram's God reveal'd his face, And caught the pilgrim to the throne. 2 Oh, how transporting was the glow That thrill'd his bosom, mix'd with fear: "Lo, the Eternal walks below,

The Highest tabernacles here!"

3 Be ours, when faith and hope grow dim, The glories which the Patriarch saw; And when we faint, may we, like him, Fresh vigor from the vision draw.

4 Heav'n's lightning hover'd o'er his head, And flash'd new splendors on his view; Break forth, O Sun! and freely shed Glad rays upon our Bethel too.

HYMN 321. L. M.

Part II.

I 'TIS ours to sojourn in a waste,

Barren and cold as Shinar's ground;

No fruits of Eschol charm the taste, No streams of Meribah are found.2 But Thou canst bid the desert bud,

With more than Sharon's rich display; But thou canst bid the cooling flood,

Gush from the rock and cheer the way. 3 We tread the path thy people trod, Alternate sunshine, bitter tears; Go Thou before, and with thy rod Divide the Jordan of our fears. 4 Be ours the song of triumph giv'n, Angelic themes to lips of clay; And ours the holy harp of heav'n, Whose strain dissolves the soul away.

HYMN 322. L. M.

Moreton. Portugal.

Watts.

1 FAR from my thoughts, vain world, be

gone,

Let my religious hours alone:

Fain would my eyes my Saviour see;—
I wait a visit, Lord, from thee!

2 My heart grows warm with holy fire,
And kindles with a pure desire:
Come, my dear Jesus, from above,
And feed my soul with heav'nly love.
3 Bless'd Jesus, what delicious fare!
How sweet thine entertainments are!
Never did angels taste above
Redeeming grace, and dying love.