5 Not choicest meats, or noblest wines, As when my faith goes thro' the signs, 6 I love the Lord, who stoops so low, 71. 1 But the rich grace his hands bestow, GE Infant Baptism. (S. M.) REAT God, now condescend Soon may their willing spirits bend, 20 what a vast delight Their happiness to see! 3 Now bless, thou God of love, 72. Send thy good Spirit from above, 1 Co The same. (L. M.) NOME, Holy Ghost, descend from high; The sacramental seal apply, And witness with the water now. *Or, this infant. 73. ? Exert thy energy divine, 1 ETER The same. (L. M.) TERNAL God, in whom we live, 2 To thee our infant babe we bring, Accept him, Lord, as henceforth thine, 74. The same. (P. M.) HOLY Child, our children take With thyself on us bestow'd, Partners of thy nature make, 2 Give them in thy grace to grow, Favourites of thy saints below, 75. 1 The same. (P. M.) HO is this tender-hearted Friend, That doth my little ones defend, And in his gentle bosom bare? 2 Thy hands upon our children lay, 76. 1 JES The same. (P. M.) ESUS, kind, inviting Lord, In their earliest infancy 77. 1 The same. (C. M.) EHOLD what condescending love To babes and sucklings he extends ? He still the ancient promise keeps, Young children in his arms he takes, 3" Permit them to approach," he cries, 4 We bring them, Lord, with thankful hands, 5 Kindly receive this tender branch, 6 Thus to the parents and their seed, And num'rous households meet at last THE LORD'S SUPPER. 78. The Passion and Exaltation of Christ. (C. M.) 1 NOW let our lips with holy fear, And mournful pleasure sing, The suff'rings of our great High-Priest, 2 He sinks in floods of deep distress; 3" Hear me, O Lord! and save thy Son, "Nor hide thy shining face; Why should thy fav'rite look like one 4" With rage they persecute the man, They tread my honour to the dust, "And laugh when I complain; "Their sharp insulting slanders add "Fresh anguish to my pain. 6" All my reproach is known to thee, "The scandal, and the shame ; Reproach has broke my bleeding heart, "And lies defiled my name. 7 "I look'd for pity, but in vain ; My kindred are my grief: "I ask my friends for comfort round, 8" With vinegar they mock my thirst; "They give me gall for food: 66 And, sporting with my dying groans, |