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Then should we know our Sins forgiv'n,
And taste the blessed Joys of Heav'n,

In the Redeemer's Love.
For this, O Lord, we'd pant and cry,
This Bleffing, grant us, or we Die,

We Die Eternally :
Some words of Comfort now impart,
And give a true believing Heart,
That we may reign on High.

H Y M N IV.

L

At Publick Worship.
ORD, we come before thee

now,
At thy Feet we humbly bow,
O do not our Suit disdain,
Shall we seek thee, Lord in vain.
In thy Temple lo! we wait,
Knocking at thy Mercy's Gate;
Let thy Spirit now impart,
Full Salvation to each Heart.
Oh! that we might lift our Eyes,
Oh! that our poor Hearts would rise
. To the Throne of Grace above,
And enjoy the sweets of Love.
Jesus, wash us in thy Blood,
Make us Kings and Priests to God;
May new Names to us be given,
Sons of God, and Heirs of Heaven.

Son of Man, in this thy Day,
Thine abundant Grace display;

Preach

Preach the acceptable Year,
Bring the Gospel-Tydings near.
Sin and Satan, Lord, dethrone,
Rule and reign in us alone ;
Make us over and above,
Cong’rors through thy matchless Love,

Η Υ Μ Ν V.

Yet there is Room.

RY, of God,

Cry, Behold the Saviour's Blood !
Cry, to every Sinner, come,
Jefus faith, Yet there is Room.
Hear, ye hungry, starving Poor,
Crouding round Meffiah's Door;
Hear the Voice that bids you come,
Oh ! accept the offer foon.
Welcome, Sinners, to his arms,
O embrace his lovely Charms;
Dying, thirsts that you would come,
Jesus faith, Yet there is Room.
Hafte, deluded Souls, away,
This the welcome Gospel-Day;
Go, compel them to come on,
Is the Language of the Son.
Whosoever will believe,
He the Witness shall receive;
Come and welcome, who will, come ?
Jesus saith, Yet there is Room.

Η Υ Μ Ν

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F

The fame.
AR from our thoughts vain world begone,

Let our religious Hours alone;
O may our Eyes our Saviour fee,
We wait a Visit, Lord, from Thee,
O warm our Hearts with holy Fire,
And kindle there a pure desire ;
Come our dear Jesus from above,
And feed our Souls with heavenly Love.
Bleft Jefus ! what delicious Fare !
How sweet thy Entertainments are !
Never did Angels tafte above,
Redeeming Grace, and dying Love,
Hail ! great Emmanuel, all Divine,
In thee, thy Father's Glories thine:
'Thou brightest, sweetest, fairest One,
That Eyes have seen, or Angels known.

H Y M N

VII.

God Glorious, and Sinners Sav'd.

F

ATHER, how wide thy Glory-fhines,

How high thy. Wonders rife ;
Known thio' the Earth by thousand Signs,

By thousand thro' the Skies.
Those mighty Orbs proclaim thy Power,

Their Motions speak thy Skill ;
And on the Wings of every Hour,
We read thy Patience ftilla

Part

Part of thy Name divinely stands,

On all thy Creatures writ;
They shew the Labour of thine Hands,

Or impress of thy Feet.
But when we view thy great design,

To save rebellious Worms;
Where Vengeance and Compassion joing

In their divinest Forms.

Here the whole Deity is known,

Nor dares a Creature guess,
Which of the Glories brightest shone,

The Justice or the Grace.
Now the full Glories of the Lamb,

Adorn the heavenly Plains;
Bright Seraphs learn Emmanuel's Name,

And try their choicest Strains,
O may I bear some humble Part,

In that immortal Song:
Wonder and Joy shall tune my Heart,
And Love command my Tongue.
Η Υ Μ. Ν

' VIII.

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Sunday Morning.
Elcome, thrice welcome, Day of Reft,

On thee our Lord arose,
On thee he burst the Bands of Death,

And triumph'd o'er his Foes.
To Day, he bids the faithful rest,
To Day he thowrs his Grace ;

Seek

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Seek ye my Face, our Lord invites,

Lord, we will feek thy Face.
To Day our Feet shall tread thy Courts,

In Prayer, and Praise, and Love :
O may our Works be offer'd pure,

As those by Saints above.
Let Heaven, p:opitious, aid our Souls,

Let Heaven in Pity hear,
Come with us to thy Temple, Lord,

And we'll adore thee there.

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PSALM Ixiii. The Morning of a Lord's-Day.

ARLY our God without delay,

We hafte to seek thy Face, Our thirsty Spirits faint away,

Without thy chearing Grace.
O may thy Glory and thy Power

Thro' all thy Temple shine :
Our God repeat that heavenly Hour,

That Vision so Divine.
Not all the Blellings of a Feaft,

Can please our Souls so well,
As when thy richer Grace we taste,

And in thy Presence dwell.
Not Life itself, with all her Joys,

Can our best Passions move,
Or raise so high our chearful Voice,

As thy forgiving Love,

Thus,

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