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Worlds are too feeble to express

His worth, his glory, or his grace. 2 When shall we climb these higher skies, : Where forms and tempelts never rise ?

Where he unveils his lovely face,

And lines and reigns the God of grace 3 Nor earth, nor air, nor fun, nor stars,

Nor heav'n his full resemblance bears ;
His beauties we can never trace,
Till we behold him, face to face.



After Sermon. : HOW pow'rful is the glor’ous word !

The unctious word of God,
Which preaches Jesus Christ, our Lord,

His suff'rings, death and blood.
2 How it reveals his mystery !
: Who did our fouls redeem ;

Explains the facred unity,

And shouts us, sav?d in him.
3 It shews us ev'ry law command,

Dear Lamb, fulfill'd in thee :
And bids us fast and fearless stand,

Where thou hast made us free.
4 Dear, glorious Lamb, we thee adore :

We praise thee, for thy word :
But, for thyself, we praise thee more,
O! holy, holy, Lord.

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YE fons of men with joy record

The various wonders of the Lord ; And let his pow'r and goodness found

Thro' all your tribes, the earth around. 2 Let the high heav'ns your songs invite,

Those spacious fields of brilliant light, Where sun, and moon, and planets roll,

And stars, that glow from pole to pole. 3 Sing, earth, in verdant robes array'd,

Its herbs and flow'rs, its fruits and shades
Peopled with life of various forms,

Of fish, and fowl, and beasts, and worms. 4 View the broad feas, majestic plains,

And think how wide its maker reigos;
That band remotest nations joins,

And on each wave, his goodness shines. 5 But O ! that brighter world above,

Where lives and reigns incarnate love!
God's only Son in flesh array'd,

For man, a bleeding victim made.
6 Thither, my soul with rapture foar ;

There in the land of praise adore ;
The theme demands an angel's lay,
Demands an everlastiog day.

At Charity Lectures.
JESUS, my Lord, how rich thy grace!

Thy bounties how complete !

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How Fall I count the matchless fum!

How pay the mighty debe !
2 High on a throne of radiant light,

Dost thou exalted thine ;
What can my poverty bestow,

When' all the worlds are thine ?
3 But thou hast brethren here below,

The partners of thy grace ;
And wilt confess their humble names

Before thy Father's face.
4 In them thou may'st be cloth'd and fed,
And vifited and cheer'd;
And, in their accents of distress,

My Saviour's voice is heard. 5 Thy face, with rey'rence and with love,

We in thy poor would see ;
O let us rather beg our bread,
Than keep it back from thee.

At Charity Lectures.
ATHER of mercies, send thy grace,

All pow'rful from above,
To form in our obedient souls

The image of thy love.
? O may por sympathizing breasts

That gen'rous pleasure know;
Kindly to share in other's joy,

for other's woe.
3 When the most helpless sons of grief

In low distress are laid,



And weep

Soft be our bearts, their pains to feel,

And swift our hands to aid.
4 So Jesus look'd on dying man,

When thron'd above the skies;
And mid'st thị embraces of his God,

He felt compaflion rife.
5 On wings of love the Saviour flew

To raise us from the ground ;
And shed the richest of his blood,
A balm for ev'ry wound.


At the Dedication of Children.
SEE Ilr’el's gentle shepherd stand

With all engaging charms;
Hark, how he calls the tender lambs,

And folds them in his arms.
2. “ Permit them to approach, he cries,

Nor (corn their humble name ;
For 'twas to bless fuch souls as these,

The Lord of angels came.” 3 We bring them, Lord, in thankful hands,

And yield them up to thee ;
Joyful, that we ourselves are thine,

Thine let our offspring be.
4. Ye little flock, with pleasure hear :

Ye children, seek his face
And fly with transport to receive

The blessings of his grace.
5 If orphans they are left behind,

Thy guardian care we trust;

That care shall heal our bleeding hearts,
If weeping o'er their duft.

At the Dedication of Children.
i HOW large the promise ! how divines

To Abra'm and his feed !
I'll be a God to thee and thine,

Supplying all their need.
2 The words of his extensive love

to age endure ; The angel of the cov’nant proves,

And feals, the blefling fore.
3 Jesus the ancient faith confirms,

To our great Fathers giv'n ;
He takes

children to his arms, And calls them heirs of heav'n. 4.Our God, ho

faithful are his ways !
His love endures the same;
Nor from the promise of his grace
Blots out the childrens' name.

From age



A Funeral Hymr.
TITH folemn shout we sing thy praise,

Ancient of everlasting days!
Thou daily gather'l home thine own,

Who bear thy cross, to wear thy crowo. 2 Let all rejoice and no one grieve,

This day we meet to take our leave,

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