To the cold dungeon of the grave, These dying, with'ring limbs of mine. e 2 Let worms devour my wasting flesh, And crumble all my bones to dust:o My God shall raise my frame anew, At the revival of the just.

3 Break, sacred morning, through the skies, -Bring that delightful-dreadful day;

o Cut short the hours, dear Lord, and come;
e Thy ling'ring wheels-how long they stay!
4 [Our wearied spirits faint to see
The light of thy returning race ;
And hear the language of those lips,
Where God has shed his richest grace.
o 5 Haste then upon the wings of love,
Rouse all the pious, sleeping clay;
That we may join in heavenly joys,
And sing the triumphs of the day.]

HYMN 103. C. M. St. Ann's. [*]
Christ's Commission. John iii, 16, 17.

1[COME, happy souls, approach your God, With new melodious songs;

Come, tender to Almighty grace

The tributes of your tongues.

e 2 So strange, so boundless was the love, That pity'd dying men,

The Father sent his equal Son,

To give them life again.

-3 Thy hands, dear Jesus, were not arm'd With a revenging rod;

No hard commission to perform-

The vengeance of a God.

e 4 But all was mercy, all was mild, And wrath forsook the throne,

o When Christ on the kind errand came, And brought salvation down.

-5 Here, sinners, you may heal your wounds, And wipe your sorrows dry;

o Trust in the mighty Saviour's name, And you shall never die.

e 6 See, dearest Lord, our willing souls Accept thine offer'd grace;

o We bless the great Redeemer's love, And give the Father praise.]

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HYMN 104. S. M. Peckham. [*]
Christ's Mediation.

RAISE your triumphant songs

To an immortal tune;

o Let the wide earth resound the deeds,
Celestial grace has done.

o 2 Sing how Eternal Love
Its chief Beloved chose;
And bid him raise our ruin'd race,
From their abyss of woes.

-3 His hand no thunder bears,
No terrour clothes his brow;
No bolts to drive our guilty souls
To fiercer flames below.

€ 4

'Twas mercy fill'd the throne,
And wrath stood silent by-

When Christ was sent with pardons down,
To rebels doom'd to die.

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Now, sinners, dry your tears,
Let hopeless sorrow cease;

d Bow to the sceptre of his love,
And take the offer'd peace.
Lord, we obey thy call;
We lay a humble claim

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To the salvation thou hast brought;
And love and praise thy name.

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HYMN 105. C. M. Reading. [b]
Repentance flowing from Divine Patience.
AND are we wretches yet alive!
And do we yet rebel!

e 'Tis boundless-'tis amazing love,-
That bears us up from hell!

2 The burden of our weighty guilt
Would sink us down to flames;
And threat'ning vengeance rolls above,
To crush our feeble frames.

d 3 Almighty Goodness cries-Forbear!
And straight the thunder stays:
And dare we now provoke his wrath,
And weary out his grace?

p 4 Lord, we have long abus'd thy love, Too long indulg' our sin

Our aching hearts e'en bleed to see
What rebels we have been.

o 5 No more, ye lusts, shall ye command;
No more will we obey;

Stretch out, O God, thy conqu❜ring hand,
And drive thy foes away.

HYMN 106. C. M. Isle of Wight. Bangor [b] Repentance at the Cross.

1

POH, if my soul was form'd for wo,

How would I vent my sighs!

Repentance should like rivers flow,
From both my streaming eyes.
2 'Twas for my sins, my dearest Lord
Hung on the cursed tree,-
And groan'd away a dying life,
For thee, my soul, for thee.

-3 Oh, how I hate these lusts of mine,
That crucify'd my God;

Those sins, that pierc'd and nail'd his flesh,
Fast to the fatal wood.

d 4 Yes, my Redeemer, they shall die!
My heart has so decreed;

Nor will I spare the guilty things,
That made my Saviour bleed.

e 5 Whilst with a melting, broken heart,
My murder'd Lord I view,

o I'll raise revenge against my sins, And slay the murd❜rers too.

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HYMN 107. C. M.

Windsor, [*]
Everlasting Absence of God intolerable.
TH
HAT awful day will surely come,
Th' appointed hour makes haste-
When I must stand before my Judge,
And pass the solemn test.

e 2 Thou lovely chief of all my joys,
Thou Sovereign of my heart,
How could I bear to hear thy voice
Pronounce the sound, Depart!
e 3 The thunder of that dismal word
Would so distress my ear,

a "Twould tear my soul asunder, Lord,
With most tormenting fear.

p 4 What to be banish'd for my life,
And yet forbid to die!
To linger in eternal pain,
Yet death for ever fly!

a 5 Oh, wretched state of deep despair,
To see my God remove-
And fix my doleful station where
I must not taste his love!

6 [Jesus, I throw my arms around,
And hang upon thy breast;
Without a gracious smile from thee,
My spirit cannot rest.]

7 Oh! tell me that my worthless name
Is graven on thy hands;

Shew me some promise in thy book,
Where my salvation stands.

8 [Give me one kiud, assuring word,
To sink my fears again;

And cheerfully my soul shall wait
Her threescore years and ten.]

HYMN 108. C. M. St. Asaph's. [*]
Access to the Throne of Grace by a Mediator.
1 COME, let us lift our joyful eyes
Up to the courts above;

And smile to see our Father there,
Upon a throne of love.

e 2 Once 'twas a seat of dreadful wrath,
And shot c'evouring flame;

Our God apper'd consuming fire,
And Vengeance was his name.
-3 Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood,
That calm'd h frowning face;
That sprinkled o'er his burning throne,
And turn'd the wrath to grace.

• 4 Now we may bow before his feet,
And venture near the Lord;
No fiery cherub guards his seat,
Noriouble flaming sword.

-5 The peaceful gates of heavenly bliss
Are open'd by the Son;

o High let us raise our notes of praise, And reach th' Almighty throne.

s 6 To thee ten thousand thanks we bring,
Great Advocate on high;

And glory to th' eternal King,
Who lays his fury by.

HYMN 109. L. M. Islington. [b]
The Darkness of Providence.
1[LORD, we adore thy vast designs,

Th' obscure abyss of Providence!
p Too deep to sound with mortal lines,-
Too dark to view with feeble sense.
e 2 Now thou array'st thine awful face
In angry frowns, without a smile :
-We, through the cloud, believe thy grace,
Secure of thy compassion still.

3 Through seas, and storms of deep distress, We sail by faith, and not by sight; Faith guides us in the wilderness, Through all the briers and the night. e 4 Dear Father, if thy lifted rod Resolve to scourge us here below, -Still we must lean upon our God; o Thine arm shall bear us safely through.] HYMN 110. S. M. Aylesbury. Kibworth. [ Death and the Resurrection.

a 1 A This mortal frame decay?

ND must this body die?

a And must these active limbs of mine Lie mould'ring in the clay?

-2

Corruption, earth, and worms,
Shall but refine this flesh;

o Till my triumphant spirit comes,
To put it on afresh.

-3 God, my Redeemer, lives,
And often from the skies

Looks down and watches all my dust-
Till he shall bid it rise.

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Array'd in glorious grace, Shall these vile bodies shine; And ev'ry shape, and ev'ry face, Look heavenly and divine.