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L. M. With holy fear and humble song, The dreadful God our souls adore: Reverence and awe become the tongue
That speaks the terrors of his power. 2 Far in the deep, where darkness dwells,
The land of horror and despair,
And laid her stores of vengeance there. 3. There guilty ghosts of Adam's race
Shriek out, and howl beneath thy rod: Once they could scorn a Saviour's grace,
But they incensed a dreadful God.
Sinner, obey thy Saviour's call;
My thoughts on awful subjects roll;
Damnation and the dead:
Upon a dying bed!
She makes a long delay,
Death sweeps the wretch away.
Down to the fiery coast,
Amongst abominable fiends,
Herself for ever lost. 4 There endless crowds of sinners lie,
And darkness makes their chains; Tortured with keen despair they cry,
Yet wait for fiercer pains. 5 Not all their anguish and their blood
For their old guilt atones; Nor the compassion of a God
Shall hearken to their groans. 6 Amazing grace! that kept my breath, Nor bid soul
remove, Till I had learn'd my Saviour's death,
And well insured his love.
I'LL praise my Maker while I've breath; And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nobler powers: My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last,
Or immortality endures.
On Israel's God; he made the sky,
3 The Lord pours eye-sight on the blind;
The Lord supports the fainting mind:
And grants the prisoner sweet release. 4 I'll praise him while he lends me breath;
And when my voice is lost in death,
(L. B. 228.) 8 lines 7.
Showers his blessings from the skies. 2 Least of all thy creatures, we
Daily thy salvation see;
More than we could know, and live! 3 Here, as in the lion's den,
Undevour'd we yet remain;
4 Jesus' name, in Satan's hour,
Stands our adamantine tower;
[L. B. 425.]
O God, my God, my all thou art!
Thy all-enlivening power display.
While in this desert land I live;
Thy love alone can comfort give.
My heart and tongue shall still employ ;
My peace, my glory, and my joy.
My happy life shall glide away:
Hourly with lifted hands I'll pay. 5 In all I do, I feel thy aid,
Therefore thy greatness will I sing,
Beneath the shadow of thy wing. 6 My soul draws nigh and cleaves to thee:
Then let or earth, or hell assail;
[s. B. 158.] 4 lines 8 & 2-6. LET every tuneful accent rise, To him that rules the earth and skies,
The infinite Unknown! His goodness shines around the sphere, And richly crowns the rolling year,
With blessings from his throne. 2 "Tis he ordains the blooming spring, Her softest, sweetest charms to bring,
And wear her lovely dress: "Tis he that clothes the fertile vale ; Bids fragrance breathe in every gale,
The rural scene to bless.
The Source of every good;
Through a Redeemer's blood.
And snatch'd us from despair; So free, so boundless is his love, He calls us to the realms above,
And soon shall bring us there.
[s. B. 159.] S. M.
Our Saviour and our King,
Their humble praises bring. 2 "Tis his almighty love,
His council and his care,