4 Oh, shine on this benighted heart,
With beams of mercy shine!
And let thy healing voice impart
A taste of joys divine.

HYMN 88. C. M.

Wantage. Standish.

Watts.

1 OH, the sharp pangs of smarting pain My dear Redeemer bore;

When knotty whips, and ragged thorns His sacred body tore!

2 'Twere you, my sins, my cruel sins,
His chief tormentors were;

Each of my crimes became a nail,
And unbelief the spear.

3 'Twere you that pull'd the vengeance down

Upon his guiltless head;

Break, break, my heart, oh, burst mine

eyes,

And let my sorrows bleed.

4 Strike, mighty grace, my stubborn soul, Till melting waters flow,

And deep repentance drown mine eyes, In undissembled wo.

HYMN 89.

L. M.

Surry. Carthage.

Steele.

1 THE Lord of life, the Saviour dies, For mortal crimes, a sacrifice:

What love, what mercy, how divine! Jesus, and can I call thee mine?2 Be all my heart, and all my days Devoted to my Saviour's praise; And let my glad obedience prove, How much I owe, how much I love. 3 Let humble, penitential wo, With painful, pleasing anguish flow; And thy forgiving smiles impart Life, hope, and joy to every heart.

HYMN 90. C. M.

B.

Walsal. Wantage.

The Penitent.

Luke vii. 36-50.

1 AS once the Saviour took his seat

Attracted by his fame,

And lowly bending at his feet,

An humble suppliant came.

2 Asham'd to lift her streaming eyes
His holy glance to meet,
She pour'd her costly sacrifice
Upon the Saviour's feet.

3 Oppress'd with sin and sorrow's weight, And sinking in despair,

With tears she wash'd his sacred feet, And wip'd them with her hair.

4 "Depart in peace," the Saviour said,

Thy sins are all forgiv'n!"

The trembling sinner rais'd her head,
In peaceful hope of heav'n.

HYMN 91. C. M.

Bangor. Windsor.

Stennett.

1 PROSTRATE, dear Jesus, at thy feet A guilty rebel lies;

And upwards to the mercy-seat
Presumes to lift his eyes.

2 Oh, let not justice frown me hence;
Stay, stay the vengeful storm:
Forbid it, that omnipotence

Should crush a feeble worm.

3 If tears of sorrow would suffice To pay the debt I owe,

Tears should from both my weeping eyes,

In ceaseless currents flow.

4 But no such sacrifice I plead To expiate my guilt;

No tears, but those which thou hast shed, No blood, but thou hast spilt.

HYMN 92. L. M.

Antworth. Surry. Darwent.

Prayer of a Penitent. Ps. 6.

1 OH, that the Lord would hear my cry,
And stay his anger lest I die!
Thy wrath is just yet, oh, forgive!
And let a mourning sinner live.

2 In all my frame, without, within,
I feel the sad effects of sin;

How long, my God, must I complain,
And deprecate thy wrath in vain?

3 Oh, should I die depriv'd of thee!
What being else can succour me?
Thy frowns would rend my soul in death,
And sink it to the depths beneath.

4 Ye darling sins, that plague me so,
The greatest enemies I know,
Depart-for God hath heard my pray'r,
And will not let me long despair.
5 No;—I shall yet his goodness bless;
And when this transient life shall pass,
Then, fuil of glory, I shall prove

He can be just, and sinners love.

HYMN 93.

L. M.

Kingsbridge. Armley.

Ps. li. 9-13.

Merrick.

1 OH, turn, great Ruler of the skies, Turn from my sin thy searching eyes, Nor let th' offences of my hand, Within thy book recorded stand. 2 Give me a will to thine subdu'd, A conscience pure, a soul renew'd; Nor let me, wrapp'd in endless gloom, An outcast from thy presence roam. 3 Oh, let thy Spirit to my heart Once more his quick'ning aid impart; My mind from every fear release, And sooth my troubled thoughts to peace. 4 So shall the souls, whom error's sway Has urg'd from thee, blest Lord, to stray,

From me thy heavenly precepts learn,
And, humbled, to their God return.

HYMN 94. C. M.

Springfield. Clarendon. Coventry.

1 ALMIGHTY God of truth and love, In me thy power exert

The mountain from my soul remove-
The hardness from my heart.

2 Do thou in mercy wake within,
A jealous, godly fear,

A sensibility to sin,

A pain to feel it near.

3 Teach me the first approach to feel
Of pride, or fond desire;

To catch the wand'rings of my will,
And quench the kindling fire.

4 The filial awe, the contrite heart,
The tender conscience give;

That I from thee no more may part-
No more thy goodness grieve.

Pleyel's. Epiphany. Pastoral Duet.

1 SOV'REIGN Ruler, Lord of all,
Prostrate at thy feet I fall:

Hear, oh, hear my ardent cry,
Frown not, lest I faint and die.

2 Vilest of the sons of men,
Worst of rebels I have been!