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3 Scatter'd the fhades of death and night,
And spread around his heav'nly light!
By him what wond'rous grace is shown
To fouls impoverish'd, and undone.
4 He fhows, beyond these mortal fhores,
A bright inheritance as ours;

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Where faints in light our coming wait,
To share their holy, happy ftate!

HYMN XVIII.

For public Mercies and Deliverances.
ALVATION doth to God belong.

SALV

H

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3 Thus is thy glorious pow'r ador'd
Among the wat'ry nations, Lord!
Yet men, who trace the dang'rous waves,
Forget the Mighty God who'faves!

HYMN XX.

Which may be used at Sea or on Land.

'L ORD! for the just thou doft provide ;

thou art their fure defence!

Eternal Wisdom is their guide,

their help Omnipotence.

2 Though they through foreign lands fhould roam,

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and breathe the tainted air

In burning climates, far from home;

yet thou, their God, art there. 3 Thy goodnefs fweetens ev'ry foil, makes ev'ry country please;

Thou on the fnowy hills doft fmile, and smooth'ft the rugged feas!

4 When waves on waves, to heav'n uprear'd, defy'd the pilot's art;

When terror in each face appear'd,
and forrow in each heart;
5 To thee Irais'd my humble pray'r,
to fnatch me from the grave!

I found thine ear not flow to hear,
Nor fhort thine arm to fave!

6 Thou gav'ft the word-the winds did ceafe,
the ftorms obey'd thy will,

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The raging fea was hufh'd in peace,

and ev'ry wave was still!

For this, my life, in ev'ry state,

a life of praise fhall be;

And death, when death shall be my fate, fhall join my foul to thee.

HYMN XXI.

Prayer and Hope of VICTORY.

NOW

OW may the God of grace and pow'r
attend his people's humble cry;

Defend them in the needful hour,
and fend deliv'rance from on high.

2 In his falvation is our hope,

and in the Name of Ifrael's God Our troops fhall lift their banners up;

3 Some truft in horfes train'd for war, and fome of chariots make their boasts; Our fureft expectations are

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from thee, the Lord of heav'nly hofts! Then fave us, Lord, from flavish fear, and let our truft be firm and ftrong,. Till thy falvation' fhall appear,

and hymns of peace conclude our fong.

W

Th.

HYMN XXII.

For the ufe of the SICK.

HEN dangers, woes, or death are nigh, Paft mercies teach me where to fly; Thine arm, Almighty God, can aid, When fickness grieves, and pains invade. 2 To all the various helps of art

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Kindly thy healing pow'r impart;
Bethesda's bath refus'd to fave
Unless an Angel blefs'd the wave.
All med'cines act by thy decree,
Receive commiffion all from thee;
And not a plant which spreads the plains,
But teams with health, when heav'n ordains.
4 Clay and Siloam's pool, we find,

At heav'n's command reftor'd the blind;
And Jordan's waters hence were feen.
To wash a Syrian leper clean.

5 But grant me nobler favours ftill, A
Grant me to know and do thy will;
Purge my foul foul from ev'ry stain,
And fave me from eternal pain.
6 Can fuch a wretch for pardon fue?
My crimes, my crimes, arife in view,
Arreft my trembling tongue in pray'r,
And pour the horrors of defpair.

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But thou, regard my contrite fighs,
My tortur'd breaft, my ftreaming eyes;
To me thy boundless love extend,
My God, my Father, and my Friend.
8 Thefe lovely Names I ne'er could plead,
Had not thy Son, vouchfaf'd to bleed;
His Blood procur'd for human race
Admittance to the Throne of Grace.
9 When fin has fhot its poifon'd dart,
And confcious guilt corrodes the heart,

His blood is all fufficient found

To draw the fhaft, and heal the wound.

10 What arrows pierce fo deep as fin?

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What venom gives fuch pain within?
Thou great Physician of the foul,
Rebuke my pangs, and make me whole.
11. O! if I trust thy fov'reign fkill,
And bow fubmiffive to thy will,
Sickness and death fhall both agree
To bring me, Lord, at last to thee.

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W

HYMN XXIII.

On Recovery from Sickness."

D..

HEN we are rais'd from deep diftress,
our God deferves our fong;

We take the pattern of our praise
from Hezekiah's* tongue.

2 The gates of the devouring grave
are open'd wide in vain,

If he that holds the keys of death
command them fast again.

3 When he but fpeaks the healing word,
malo then no disease withstands;
Fevers and plagues obey the Lord,
and fly, as he commands.

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If half the ftrings of life fhould break,
he can our frame restore,

And caft our fins behind his back,
and they are found no more.
5 To him I cry'd-"Thy fervant fave,
"thou ever good and juft;
"Thy pow'r can rescue from the

thy pow'r is all my trust!"

grave;

6 He heard, and fav'd my foul from death,
and dry'd my falling tears;
Now to his praise I'll spend my breath,
through my remaining years.
HYMN XXIV.

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On the fame.

Y God, fince thou haft rais'd me up, thee I'll extol with thankful voice;

MY

Reftor'd by thine Almighty pow'r,
with fear before thee I'll rejoice.

*Isaiah xxxix. 9, &c.

2 With troubles worn, with pain opprefs'd, to thee I cry'd, and thou didst fave; Thou did'ft fupport my finking hopes, my life did'it refcue from the grave. 3 Wherefore, ye Saints! rejoice with me," with me fing praifes to the Lord; Call all his goodness to your mind, and all his faithfulness record. 4 His anger is but short; his love which is our life, hath certain ftay; Grief may continue for a night, but joy returns with rifing day! 5 Then what I vow'd in my diftrefs, in happier hours I now will give, And strive, that in my grateful verse his praises may forever live.

6 To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, the bleft and undivided Three,

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The one fole Giver of all life,
glory and praise for ever be.

HYMN XXV.

FUNERAL CONSOLATIONS.

EAR what thevoice from heav'n declares to thofe in Chrift who die!

HE

Releas'd from all their earthly cares,
"they reign with him on high."

2 Then, why lament departed friends,
or shake at death's alarms?
Death's but the fervant Jefus fends
to call us to his arms.

3 If fin be pardon'd we're fecure,
death hath no fting befide;

The law gave fin its ftrength and pow'r;
but,Chrift, our ransom, died!

4 The graves of all his faints he blefs'd,
when in the grave he lay;

And rifing thence, their hopes he rais'd
to everlasting day!

5 Then joyfully, while life we have,
to Chrift, our life, we'll fing
"Where is thy victory, O grave?
"and where, O death, thy fting?"

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