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I'd tell him how my sins arise,
What sorrows I sustain;
And leaves my heart in pain.
To wrestle with my God;
And for my Saviour's blood.
And heal my broken bones:
The language of their groans.
And banish every fear;
To spread thy sorrows there.
85. The Incarnation of Christ.
Luke ü. 14.
AMERICA. MORTALS, awake, with angels join,
And chant the solemn lay;
To hail th' auspicious day.
And sweet seraphic fire
And strung and tun'd the lyre.
Swift through the vast expanse it flew,
And loud the echo roll'd;
'Twas more than heaven could hold, Down through the portals of the sky,
Th’impetuous torrent ran;
To bear the news to man.
6 Glory to God on high; “Good-Will and peace are now complete,
66. Jesus was born to die." Hail, Prince of life, for ever hail!
Redeemer, brother, friend; Tho' earth, and time, and life should fail,
Thy praise shall never end. 86. The Attraction of the Cross.
John xii. 32.
TUNBRIDGE. YONDER—amazing sight!--I see
Th' incarnate Son of God, Expiring on the accursed tree,
And welt'ring in his blood. Behold a purple torrent run
Down from his hands and head: The crimson tide puts out the sun;
His groans awake the dead.
The trembling earth, the darken'd sky,
Proclaim the truth aloud;
" This is the Son of God!” So great, so yast a sacrifice
May well my hope revive:
The sinner sure may live.
Might draw me, Lord, to thee!
Thine it shall ever be!
87. The Resurrection and Ascension.
CHARLES STREET. ANGELS, roll the rock away,
Death, yield up thy mighty prey : See, he rises from the tomb, Glowing with immortal bloom. Hallelujah. 'Tis the Saviour, angels raise Fame's eternal trump of praise; Let the earth's remotest bound, Hear the joy-inspiring sound. Hal. Now, ye saints, lift up your eyes, Now to glory see him rise, In long triumph up the sky, Up to waiting worlds on high. Hal.
Heav'n displays her portals wide,
88. Christ's Intercession prevalent.
John xvii. 24.
NEWBURY. AWAKE, sweet gratitude, and sing
Th' ascended Saviour's love:
His people's cause above.
His humble suit below;
Enthron'd in glory now.
Salvation he demands;
his breast, And spreads his wounded hands.
Eternal life, at his request,
To every saint is given; Safety below, and, after death,
The plentitude of heav'n.
89. Praise for the Fountain opened.
HERE is a fountain fill'd with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel's veins; And sinners plung'd beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.
That fountain in his day:
Wash all my sins away!
Shall never lose its pow'r
Be sav'd to sin no more.
Thy flowing wounds supply,
And shall be till I die. But when this lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave, Then in a nobler, sweeter
song I'll sing thy pow'r to save.