What multitudes of thoughtless souls,
The road to ruin go!

2 But yonder see that narrow way
Which leads to endless bliss;
There see a happy chosen few,
Redeem'd by sovereign grace.
3 They from destruction's city came,
To Zion upward tend:

The bible is their precious guide,
And God himself their friend.

4 Lord, I would now a pilgrim be—
Guide thou my feet aright;

I would not for ten thousand worlds
Be banish'd from thy sight.

HYMN 27. L. M.

Doddridge.

Bath. Luther's Hymn

The sinner weighed and found wanting. Dan. v. 27. 1 RAISE, thoughtless sinner, raise thine

eye

Behold God's balance lifted high! There shall his justice be display'd, And there thy hope and life be weigh'd. 2 See in one scale his perfect law; Mark with what force its precepts draw: Wouldst thou the awful test sustain?

Thy works how light! thy thoughts how vain!

3 Behold, the hand of God appears To trace in dreadful characters;

"Sinner-thy soul is wanting found, And wrath shall smite thee to the ground." 4 Let sudden fear thy nerves unbrace; Let horror change thy guilty face; Through all thy thoughts let anguish roll, Till deep repentance melt thy soul. 5 One only hope may yet prevail; Christ hath a weight to turn the scale; Stiil doth the gospel publish peace, And show a Saviour's righteousness. 6 Great God, exert thy power to save; Deep on the heart these truths engrave; The pond'rous load of guilt remove, That trembling lips may sing thy love.

Hell. Isa. xxx. 33.

Mark ix. 43, 44.

1 FAR from the utmost verge of day
Those gloomy regions lie,

Where flames amid the darkness play-
The worm shall never die.

2 The breath of God-his angry
Supplies and fans the fire;

breath

There sinners taste the second death,
And would-but can't expire.

3 Conscience, the never dying worm,
With torture gnaws the heart;
And wo and wrath, in every form,
Is now the sinner's part.

4 Sad world indeed! ah, who can bear
For ever there to dwell-
For ever sinking in despair

In all the pains of hell!

HYMN 29. C. M.

Elgin. Funeral Hymn.

The Scoffer.

Watts.

1 ALL ye who laugh and sport with death,
And say, there is no hell;
The gasp of your expiring breath
Will send you there to dwell.

2 When iron slumbers bind your flesh,
With strange surprise you'll find
Immortal vigor spring afresh,

And tortures wake the mind!

3 Then you'll confess, the frightful names
Of plagues, you scorn'd before,
No more shall look like idle dreams,
Like foolish tales no more.

4 Then shall ye curse that fatal day,
With flames upon your tongues,
When you exchang'd your souls away
For vanity and songs.

HYMN 30. L. M.

Bath. Monmouth.

To-day. Heb. iv. 7.

1 HASTEN, O sinner, to be wise,
And stay not for the morrow's sun;

The longer wisdom you despise The harder is she to be won. 2 Oh, hasten, mercy to implore,

And stay not for the morrow's sun, For fear thy season should be o'er Before this evening's course be run. 3 Hasten, O sinner, to return,

And stay not for the morrow's sun, For fear thy lamp should fail to burn Before the needful work is done.

4 Hasten, O sinner, to be blest,

And stay not for the morrow's sun, For fear the curse should thee arrest, Before the morrow is begun.

HYMN 31.

L. M.

Winchester. Bath Wells.

Newton.

The fig-tree. Mark xi. 20.

1 ONE awful word which Jesus spoke
Against the tree that bore no fruit,
More dreadful than the lightning's stroke,
Blasted and dried it to the root.

2 How many, who the gospel hear,
Whom Satan blinds, and sin deceives,
May with this wither'd tree compare ?—
They yield no fruit, but only leaves.
3 Knowledge, and zeal, and gifts, and talk,
Unless combin'd with faith and ove,
And witness'd by a gospel walk,
Will not a true profession prove.

4 Without such fruit as God expects, Knowledge will make our state the worse; The fruitless sinners he rejects,

And soon will blast them with his curse.

HMYN 32.

S. M.

Doddridge.

Dunbar. Orange. Bridgeport.

Preparation for the Judgment. Rev. xx. 11.
1 HOW will my heart endure
The terrors of that day;
When earth and heav'n, before the Judge,
Astonish'd shrink away!

2 But ere that trumpet shakes
The mansions of the dead;
Hark! from the gospel's cheering sound,
What joyful tidings spread!

3 Ye sinners, seek his grace,
Whose wrath ye cannot bear;

Fly to the shelter of his cross,
And find salvation there.

4 So shall that curse remove,
By which the Saviour bled;
And the last awful day shall pour
His blessings on your head.

HYMN 33. S. M.

Bridgeport. Wirksworth.

Dwight.

The harvest is past. Jer. viii. 20.

1 I SAW, beyond the tomb,
The awful Judge appear,