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For it pleased the Father that in him all Fulness

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Precious Saviour, Chrift,

All Fulness dwells in thee :
O loving Lamb, give me to feel
Thy Fulness, filling me.
Whatever Sinners want
Lies treasur'd up in thee ;
And Grace for Grace they may receive,
Out of thy Fulness free.
Come, Sinners, taste this Grace !
Behold his loving Heart !
See how your Unbelief him spear'd,
And caus'd him bitter smart.

The Way is open free,
The Law is fatisfy'd :
The flaming Sword no more appears,
Since Christ himself has Dy’d.

Now the full Ransom's paid,
Our God demands no more :
Sinners, rejoice in Jesu's Blood,
That inexhaustless Store.

o that you would believe, That the whole Debt is paid,

Then would your Souls in God rejoice, And feel that he's your Aid.

Faith is the gift of God,
And he bestows it free:
Cry to him, helpless Sinner, cry,
And he will give it thee.
All Glory to the Lamb
That dy'd upon the Cross !
For ever blessed be his Name,
For he was sain for us.

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ATHER of Mercies, God of Love,

Whose Bowels of Compassion move
To Sinners, Vile and Base :
Now bow thine Ear to our Request,
And hear us, for we fain would reft

Upon thy sov’reign Grace.
Display thy Glory, sweetly, Lord

every Heart, thy Grace afford

To Sinners, such as we:
Let us now feel thy pard’ning Love,
And hear thy Voice, celestial Dove,.

Then happy shall we be.

In

Let every Action, every Thought,
Be into due Subjection brought

To thee, our gracious Lord :
Now let our stubborn Wills be broke,
And Sin receive the fatal stroke,

By thine Almighty Word.

Then

Then will we fing to thee our Lord,
All

Glory to th' eternal Word,

That saves our Souls from Death : Then shall we praise thy sov’reign Grace, And fing the Beauties of thy Face,

While we have Life or Breath.

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WEET is the Work, O God our King,

To praise thy Name, give thanks and sing, To shew thy Love by Morning Light, And talk of all thy Truth at Night,

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Sweet is the Day of sacred Rest,
No mortal Cares fhould feize our Breast;
O may our Hearts in tune be found,
Like David's Harp of solemn found.

Our Hearts should triumph in the Lord,
And bless thy Works, and bless thy Word ;
Thy works of Grace, how bright they shine!
How deep thy Counsels! how Divine !

O may we fee, and hear, and know,
What Mortals cannot reach below;
May all our Pow'rs find sweet Employ,
In Christ's eternal World of Joy.

HYMN

H Y M N.

XCVII.

Longing for the House of God.

L

ORD of the Worlds above,

How Pleasant and how Fair,
The dwellings of thy Love,
Thy earthly Temples are,

To his Abode
My Soul aspire,
With warm Desire,
To see thy God.

O happy Souls that pray,
Where God appoints to hear,
O happy Men that pay
Their constant Service there!

They praise Christ still,
And happy they
That love the Way,
To Zion's Hill.

They go from Strength to Strength,
Thro this dark vale of tears,
Till each arrives at length,
Till each in Heaven appears.

O glorious Seat,
Our God and King,
Us thither bring,
To kiss thy Feet.

The Lord, his People loves,
His Hand no Good with-holds,

Fron

From those his Heart approves,
From pure and pious Souls. .

Thrice happy he,
O God of Hofts,
Whose Spirit trusts
Alone in thee

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LET every mortal Ear attend,

With humble Awe, before our God,
While he proclaims the Sinners Friends.
And speaks of Pardon thro' his Blood.
All Power's.committed to his Hands,
The Soul that trusts his Word shall live,
The Power of his Blood commands,
The vileft Sinners to Believe.

Behold his Head, his Hands, his Feet,
His bleeding Heart, and wounded Side ;
Here at his, Cross, ye Weary fit,
Behold the Lamb of God that Dyd.
Look up, ye trembling Sinners all,
And view him with a faithful Eye ;
'Tis you, poor Sinners, you, he calls,
He that believes shall never Die.

Come hither all ye trembling Hoft,
The Saviour fhall your Souls defend,
He came to seek and save the loft,
Christ is the Sinners only Friend.

Hark!

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