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6 Hither, then, your music bring,
Strike aloud each joyful string,
398. Jesus Christ a true Friend. Prov. xvii. 24.
Well deserves the name of FRIEND:
They who once his kindness prove,
Find it everlasting love.
Could, or would have shed their blood !
This was boundless love indeed !
Jesus is a friend in need.
Friend of sinners was his name;
Still he calls them brethren, friends,
And to all their wants attends.
Teach us, Lord, at length to love ;
But when home our souls are brought,
399. The Dying Love of Christ. (P. M.)
MY Lord, I've often mused
On thy wond'rous love to me;
Slighted, disregarded thee!
Pleas'd with what displeased thee:
Wounded, yet no wound could see. 2 But unwearied Thou pursu'dst me,
Still thy calls repeated came;
Bearing my reproach and blame ;
Whilst I view each pierced limb,
Mingling with the purple stream. 3 I no more at Mary wonder,
Dropping tears upon the grave; Earnest asking all around her,
Where is be who dy'd to save? Dying love her heart attracted;
Soon she felt bis rising pow'r; He, who Mary thus affected,
Bids his mourners weep no more. 10.
Divine Love. (P. M.) 1 O
LOVE divine, how sweet thou art! A
When shall I find my willing heart
2 Stronger his love than death or hell;
The first born sons of light,
The length, and breadth, and height.
In this poor stony heart!
Be mine this better part.
Be this my happy choice;
To hear the Saviour's voice.
5 O that I could, with favor'd John,
The dear Redeemer's breast!
My everlasting rest.
The same. (P. M.) 1L
OVE divine, all love excelling,
Joy of heav'n to earth come down!
Jesus ! thou art all compassion,
Into ev'ry troubled breast !
3 Come! Almighty to deliver,
Let us all thy life receive!
Pure, unspotted may we be;
102. The Sinner's only Plea. (C. M.) 1 HOLY
OLY and just, and righteous God,
Before thy face we fall :
But still for mercy call.
Reveal'd the wond'rous plan ;
Which saves rebellious man.
Through his atoning blood;
Who brings us near to God.
And all is peace and love;
And we shall reign above. 403. Jesus wept—he died-see how he loved us.
John ii. 15. (L. M.) 1 a
O fair a face, bedew'd with tears!
What beauty e'en in grief appears ! He wept,- he bled, -he died for you ;
What more, ye saints, could Jesus do ?' 2 Enthron’d above, with equal glow
His warm affections downward flow;
And feels a sympathetic smart,
He knows the frailty of our frame;