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INVITING. 81,82. 4 The sinner must the stranger know, Or soon his loss deplore; Behold! the living waters flow; Come-drink, and thirst no more.

HYMN 81. S. M. Dobell.
Durham. St. Thomas.
The accepted time. 2 Cor. vi. 2.
1 NOW is th’ accepted time,
Now is the day of grace;
Now, sinners, come without delay,
And seek the Saviour's face.

2 Now is th’ accepted time, The Saviour calls to-day; To-morrow it may be too lateThen why should you delay?

3 Now is th’ accepted time, The gospel bids you come ; And every promise in his word Declares there yet is room.

4 Lord, draw reluctant souls,
And feast them with thy love;
Then will the angels clap their wings,
And bear the news above.

HYMN 82. L. M. Dwight.
Psalm 88th. Carthage. Darwent. -
1 WHILE life prolongs its precious light
Mercy is found and peace is given;
But soon, ah soon! approaching night
Shall blot out every hope of h:".

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2 While God invites, how blest the day !
How sweet the gospel's charming sound-
“Come, sinners, haste, Oh, haste away,
While yet a pard'ning God he's found.”
3 “Soon, borne on time's most rapid wing,
Shall death command you to the grave,
Before his bar your spirits bring,
And none be found to hear, or save.”
4 “In that lone land of deep despair,
No sabbath's heav'nly light shall rise;
No God regard your bitter pray'r,
Nor Saviour call you to the skies.”

HYMN 83. L. M.
Blendon. China.
1 TO-DAY, if ye will hear his voice,
Now is the time to make your choice;
Say, will you to Mount Zion go?
Say, will you have this Christ, or no?

2 Ye wand'ring souls, who find no rest,
Say, will you be for ever blest?
Will you be sav'd from sin and hell?
Will you with Christ in glory dwell?

3 Come now, dear youth, for ruin bound,
Obey the gospel's joyful sound;
Come, go with us, and you shall prove
The joy of Christ's redeeming love.

4. Once more we ask you in his name-
For yet his love remains the same-
Say, will you to Mount Zion go?
Say, w: you have this Christ, or no?


5 Leave all your sports and glittering toys,
Come, share with us eternal joys;
Or must we leave you bound to hell-
Then, dear young friends, a long farewell.

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1 TO-MORROW, Lord, is thine,
Lodg'd in thy sov’reign hand;
And, if its sun arise and shine,
It shines by thy command.

2 The present moment flies,
And bears our life away;
Oh, make thy servants truly wise,
That they may live to-day.

3 Since on this winged hour
Eternity is hung,
Waken by thy almighty power
The aged and the young.

4 One thing demands our care;
Oh, be it still pursu’d—

Lest, slighted once, the season fair
Should never be renew’d.

5 To Jesus may we fly, Swift as the morning light, • Lest life's young golden beam should die In sudden, endless night. 71


HYMN 85. L. M. Heginbothom.
Leyden. Luton. Nantwich.

The night cometh. John ix.4.

1 AWAKE, awake, my sluggish soul,

Awake, and view the setting sun; See how the shades of death advance, Ere half the task of life is done.

2 Death '-'tis an awful, solemn sound;
Oh, let it wake the slumb'ring ear!
Apace the dreadful conqueror comes,
With all his pale companions near.

3 Thy drowsy eyes will soon be clos'd,— These friendly warnings heard no more;

Soon will the mighty Judge approach,

E’en now he stands before the door.

4 To-day attend his gracious voice;
This is the summons that he sends:
“Awake,—for on this transient hour
Thy long eternity depends.”

HYMN 86. C. M. Watts.

Wantage. Bangor.
Repentance. Zech. xii. 10.
1 ALAS! and did my Saviour bleed!
And did my Sov’reign die?
Would he devote that sacred head
For such a worm as I?

2 Was it for crimes, that I had done-
He groan'd upon the tree?—
Amazing pity! grace unknown:
And love beyond degree!
3 Well might the sun in darkness hide,
And shut his glories in,
When God, the mighty Maker, died
For man, the creature's sin.

4 Thus might I hide my blushing face, While his dear cross appears; Dissolve, my heart, in thankfulness, And melt, my eyes, to tears.

5 But drops of tears can ne'er repay
The debt of love I owe;
Here, Lord, I give myself away-
'Tis all that I can do.

HYMN 87. C. M. Steele. Funeral Hymn. Buckingham. 1 O THOU, whose tender mercy hears Contrition's humble sigh; Whose hand, indulgent, wipes the tears From sorrow's weeping eye;2 See, low before thy throne of grace, - A wretched wanderer mourn; Hast thou not bid me seek thy face? Hast thou not said-"Return!” 3 And shall my guilty fears prevail To drive me from thy feet? Oh, let not this dear refuge fail, This only safe retreat! 73

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