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How chang'd his mortal form !
Thus breaks the fun all glorious forth,
And fev'n fold light revifits earth,
As dies away the form.
Behold the man what beauties fhine Į
'Tis there the father beams divine
With light, and life, and grace:
Thofe glories which furround the God,
His mighty arm shall pour abroad,
On Adam's naked race.
4 Lord Jefus come! From Tabor's mound, Light the whole earth with glory round:" Thyself, the life, display :
Thefe bodies change to heav'nly forms:
O God my foul, my fpirit warms :
I pant to fee thy day.
HYMN LXXX. C. M. [JOHN MURRAY.]
The Saviour's Meffage.
HARK, 'tis the Saviour of mankind,
Speaks to his chofen few;
'Tis he who leads the wand'ring blind, In ways they could not know.
2 'Tis he who fays, "Go forth my friends, Proclaim my truth to all;
Inform each foul my grace extends
As wide as Adam's fall.
3 Tell finners of the deepest dye,
That they might life obtain;
I chofe the curfed death to die,
And taste infernal pain !
4 What though my ranfom'd may refuse,
The meffage to receive;
And you the messengers abuse,
Yet ftill I came to fave.
Yea fhould the tempter ftill prevail,
To blind my people's eyes;
In my great day I'll rend the veil,
From all beneath the fkies,
6 Then ev'ry eye fhall fee the grace,
You now in faith declare ;
And I myself from ev'ry face,
Will wipe off ev'ry tear.”
7 Lord we believe thy facred word,
And wait the glorious day,
When ev'ry foul by grace restor❜d,
Shall walk in wisdom's way,
HYMN LXXXI. C. M. [DODRIDDGE.]
I SAVIOUR of men, and Lord of love,
How fweet thy gracious name!
With joy that errand we review,
On which thy mercy came.
2 While all thy own angelic bands,
Stood waiting on the wing,
Charm'd with the honor to obey
Their great, eternal King.
For us mean, wretched, finful men,
Thou laid'st that glory by ;
First in our mortal flesh to serve
Then in that flesh to die.
Bought with thy fervice and thy blood,
We doubly, Lord, are thine;
To thee our lives we would devote,
To thee our death refign,
HYMN LXXXII. L. M.
Jefus weeps for man.
iSO fair a face bedew'd with tears!
What beauty e'en in grief appears?
He wept, he bled, he di'd for you!
What more, ye faints, could Jefus do?
2 Enthron'd above with equal glow,
His warm affections downward flow;
In our distress he bears a part,
And feels a fympathetic fmart.
3 Still his compaffions are the fame,
He knows the frailty of our frame,
Our heaviest burdens he sustains,
Shares in our forrows and our pains.
HYMN LXXXIII. L. M. [WATTS' Pfal. 69.] · DE
Chrift's Paffion, and the finner's Salvation.
EEP in our hearts let us record
The deeper forrows of our Lord;
Behold the rifing billows roll,
To overwhelm his holy foul.
2 In long complaints he fpends his breath, While hofts of hell and pow'rs of death, And all the fons of malice join
To execute, their curft design.
3 Yet, gracious God, thy pow'r and love Has made the curfe a bleffing prove;
Thofe dreadful fufferings of thy Son,
Aton'd for fins which we had done.
4 The pangs of our expiring Lord,
The honors of thy law restor'd:
His forrows made thy juftice known,
And paid for follies not his own.
O for his fake, our guilt forgive,
And let the mourning finner live :
The Lord will hear us in his name,
Nor fhall our hope be turn'd to fhame.
HYMN LXXXIV. L. M. [WATTS.] The Sufferings and glory of the Lamb. 1 NOW for a tune of lofty praise
To great Jehovah's equal fon!
Awake my voice in heav'nly, lays,
Tell the loud wonders he has done..
2 Sing, how he left the worlds of light,
And the bright robes he wore above;
How fwift and joyful was his flight
On wings of everlasting love.
Hell and its lions roar'd around,
His precious blood the monsters fpilt;
While weighty forrows prefs'd him down,
Large as the loads of all our guilt.
4 Deep in the fhades of gloomy death,
Th' almighty captive pris'ner lay;
Th' almighty captive left the earth,
And rofe to everlafting day.
Lift up your eyes, ye fons of light,
Up to his throne of fhining grace;
See what immortal glories fit,
Round the fweet beauties of his face.
6 Amongst a thoufand harps and fongs,
Jefus the God, exalted reigns:
His facred name fills all their tongues,
And echoes through the heav'nly plains!
HYMN LXXXV. P. M.
Jefus in the Garden of Gethsemane.
ESUS, bow'd down by mighty woe, Unfelt, unknown to all below, Except the Son of God; In agonistic pangs of foul, Drinks deep from wormwood's bitt'reft bowl, And fweats great drops of blood.
2 See, his difciples flumb'ring round:
Nor pitying friend on earth is found;
He treads the press alone:
In vain to Heav'n he turns his eyes;
No pardon waits him from the skies;
His death it must atone.
3" Father hear! this cup remove,
Save thou the darling of thy love,
(The proftrate victim faid)
Yet not my will, but thine be done,
Should that extend, to count thy Son,
Amid the fleeping dead."
4 His earnest prayers, his deep'ning groans, Were heard before angelic thrones : Amazement wrapt the fky.
"Go, ftrengthen Chrift," Jehovah faid;