Newton.

HYMN 366. L. M.

Blendon. Bath.

The happy change.

1 IN sin by blinded passions led, In search of fancied good we range; The paths of disappointment tread, To nothing fix'd-but love of change. 2 But, when the Holy Ghost imparts The knowledge of the Saviour's love; Our wand'ring, weary, restless hearts, Are then renew'd, no more to rove. 3 Now a new principle takes place, Which guides and animates the will; This love, another name for grace, Constrains to good and bars from ill. 4 By love's pure light we soon perceive end; Our noblest bliss and proper And gladly ev'ry idol leave,

To love and serve our Lord and Friend.

Ganges. Chapel. Willoughby.

Ockum.

1 AWAK'D by Sinai's awful sound,
My soul in bonds of guilt I found,
And knew not where to go;
Eternal truth did loud proclaim,
"The sinner must be born again,
Or sink to endless wo."

2 When to the law I trembling fled,
It pour'd its curses on my head,
I no relief could find;

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This fearful truth increas'd my pain, "The sinner must be born again,' And whelm'd my tortur'd mind. 3 Again did Sinai's thunders roll, And guilt lay heavy on my soul, A vast, oppressive load; Alas, I read, and saw it plain, "The sinner must be born again," Or drink the wrath of God.

4 The saints I heard with rapture tell, How Jesus conquer'd Death and Hell, And broke the fowler's snare; Yet, when I found this truth remain, "The sinner must be born agair," I sunk in deep despair.

5 But while I thus in anguish lay,
The gracious Saviour pass'd this way,
And felt his pity move;

The sinner, by his justice slain,
Now by his grace is born again,
And sings redeeming love.
HYMN 368.

C. M.

Colchester. Barby.

The Prodigal. Luke xv. 11-24. 1 THANKLESS-the Prodigal receives The bounty of his Sire,

Rejoicing only in the hope

To have his own desire.

2 And far from home, in climes of vice, He joins the heedless throng;

Begins in pleasure to rejoice,
And chants the mirthful song.

3 But lo, the famine coming on,
Now dies the song profane ;-
The youth beholds his substance gone,
And begs the husk in vain.

4 The terrors of the world to come
Have struck his pleasures dead-
And far from God-and far from home,
His every friend has fled.

HYMN 369.

C. M.

Wantage. Buckingham.

Returning.

Part II.

1 THE Prodigal, with streaming eyes,
From folly just awake,

Reviews his wand'rings with surprise;
His heart begins to break.

2 1 starve, he cries, nor can I bear
The famine in this land;

While servants of my Father share
The bounty of his hand.

3 With deep repentance I'll return
And seek my Father's face;
Unworthy to be call'd a son,
I'll ask a servant's place.

4 Far off He saw him slowly move,
In pensive silence mourn;

The Father ran with arms of love

To welcome his return.

5 Through all the courts the tidings flew,
And spread the joy around;
The angels tune their harps anew;
The Prodigal is found!'

HYMN 370. C. M. Part III. H.

Clarendon. Barby.

1 MY soul!-thy hasty censure spare,
Repress the bitter tone,-
Forbear thy brother's faults to judge,-
And watchful, scan thy own.

2 Hast thou th' unwearied gifts of heaven
Beheld with thoughtless pride?
Ungratefully their blessings shar'd,
Ör madly misapplied?-

3 In the "far country" of thy sin,
Hast thou perceiv'd with pain,
The evils of thy wayward course,
And sought thy God again?
4. And was thy penitence receiv'd,
And was the rebel lov'd?-
Then, with the Prodigal, adore
The mercy thou hast prov'd.
HYMN 371. S. M.

Shirland. Orange. Wirksworth.
The sinner cured. John v. 2-9.
1 BESIDE the gospel pool,
Appointed for the poor,

From year to year a sinful soul
Had waited for a cure.

2 The voice of one unknown,
Advancing where he lay,
Bespoke him in a gentle tone,
And thus it seem'd to say:
3" Poor, sinful, dying soul,
Why linger here and die?
Only consent to be made whole
You need no longer lie.
4 "The Saviour passing by,
Well knows your sinking state,
And while the Saviour is so nigh,
The sinner need not wait."

5 That voice dispell'd the charm,
His fatal slumbers broke;

He saw his sins with fresh alarm,
And fear'd the vengeful stroke.

6 Unable to endure,

He call'd for aid divine

The great Physician wrought the cure;
That guilty soul was mine.

THE CONVERT.

HYMN 372.

L. M.

Surry. Armley.

Tatlock.

1 FAR from thy fold, O God, my feet Once mov'd in error's devious maze,

Nor found religious duties sweet,

Nor sought thy face, nor lov'd thy ways.