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HYMN 58. L. M.


COME, weary souls, with sins distrest,

Come, and accept the promis'd rest;

The Saviour's gracious call obey,
And cast your gloomy fears away.

2. Oppress'd with guilt, a painful load,
O come, and spread your woes abroad!
Divine compassion, mighty love,
Will all the painful load remove.

3. Here mercy's boundless ocean flows,
To cleanse your guilt and heal your woes:
Pardon, and life, and endless peace;
How rich the gift! how free the grace!

4. Lord, we accept with thankful heart,
The hope thy gracious words impart;
We come with trembling, yet rejoice,
And bless the kind inviting voice.

5. Dear Saviour! let thy pow'rful love
Confirm our faith, our fears remove;
And sweetly influence ev'ry breast,
And guide us to eternal rest.


HYMN 59. C. M.

FOR a closer walk with God, A calm and heav'nly frame; And light to shine upon the road, That leads me to the Lamb!

2. Where is the blessedness I knew When first I saw the Lord ?


Where is the soul-refreshing view
Of Jesus and his word?

3. What peaceful hours I then enjoy'd !
How sweet their mem❜ry still!
But now I find an aching void
The world can never fill.

4. Return, O holy Dove! return,
Sweet Messenger of rest!

I hate the sins that made thee mourn
And drove thee from my breast.

5. The dearest idol I have known,
Whate'er that idol be,

Help me to tear it from thy throne,
And worship only thee.

6. So shall my walk be close with God,
Calm and serene my frame :

So purer light shall mark the road
That leads me to the Lamb.


HYMN 60. C. M.

THAT I knew the secret place,
Where I might find my God!

I'd spread my wants before his face,
And pour my woes abroad.

2. I'd tell him how my sins arise,
What sorrows I sustain;

How grace decays, and comfort dies,
And leaves my heart in pain.


3. He knows what arguments I'd take
To wrestle with my God;

I'd plead for his own mercy's sake,
And for my Saviour's blood.

4. My God will pity my complaints,
And heal my broken bones;
He takes the meaning of his saints,
The language of their groans.

5. Arise, my soul, from deep distress,
And banish ev'ry fear,

He calls thee to his throne of grace,
To spread thy sorrows there.

New Cambridge.] HYMN 61. C. M. [B-
REQUENT the day of God returns,
To shed its quick'ning beams;

And yet, how slow devotion burns!
How languid are its flames!

2. Accept our faint attempts to love,
Our frailities, Lord, forgive;
We would be like thy saints above,
And praise thee while we live.

3. Increase, O Lord! our faith and hope, And fit us to ascend,

Where the assembly ne'er breaks up,

The sabbath ne'er shall end:

4. Where we shall breathe in heav'nly air, With heav'nly lustre shine;

Before the throne of God appear,

And feast on love divine:

5. Where we, in high seraphic strains,
Shall all our pow'rs employ;
Delighted range th' etherial plains,
And take our fill of joy.

Tunbridge.] HYMN 62. C. M. [Stennett. LORD, at thy table I behold

The wonders of thy grace:

But most of all admire, that I
Should find a welcome place:
2. I, that am all defil'd with sin,
A rebel to my God;

I, that have crucify'd his Son,
And trampled on his blood.

3. What strange, surprising grace is this,
That such a soul has room!
My Saviour takes me by the hand,
My Jesus bids me come.


4. Eat, O my friends," the Saviour cries,
"The feast was made for you :

For you I groan'd, and bled, and died,
And rose, and triumph'd too."

5. With trembling faith, and bleeding hearts, Lord, we accept thy love:

"Tis a rich banquet we have had

What will it be above?

6. Ye saints below, and hosts of heav'n,
Join all your praising pow'rs;

No theme is like redeeming love,
No Saviour is like ours.

7. Had I ten thousand hearts, dear Lord,
I'd give them all to thee:

Had I ten thousand tongues, they all
Should join the harmony.

Plympton.] HYMN 63. L. M.



E mourning saints, whose streaming tears,
Flow o'er your children dead,

Say not in transports of despair,
That all your hopes are fled.

2. While cleaving to that darling dust,
In fond distress ye lie;

Rise, and with joy and rev'rence view
A heav'nly Parent nigh.

3. Though, your young branches torn away, Like wither'd trunks ye stand,

With fairer verdue shall

ye bloom,

Touch'd by th' Almighty's hand.

4. "I'll give the mourner," saith the Lord,
"In mine own house a place;
No names of daughters and of sons
Could yield so high a grace.

5. "Transient and vain is ev'ry hope
A rising race can give ;

In endless honor and delight
My children all shall live."

6. We welcome, Lord, those rising tears,
Through which thy face we see,

And bless those wounds which thro' our hearts Prepare a way for thee.

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