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78. Pleading the Covenant.
Ps. lxxiv. 20.
Is still the same, nor e'er can move;
79. It is finished. John xix. 30.
'TIS finish’d, so the Saviour cried,
And meekly bow'd his head and died. 'Tis finish'd-yes, the race is run, The battle fought, the victory won. 'Tis finish'd-all that heaven decreed, And all the ancient prophets said Is now fulfillid, as was design’d, In me the Saviour of mankind.
'Tis finish'd-heaven is reconcil'd, And all the powers of darkness spoild: Peace, love, and happiness again Return and dwell with sinful men. 'Tis finish'd let the joyful sound Be heard through all the nations round: 'Tis finish'd-let the echo fly Thro' heaven and hell, thro' earth and sky.
80. Eficacious Grace. Ps. xlv. 3–5.
CAMBRIDGE NEW. HAIL! mighty Jesus, how divine
Is thy victorious sword !
At thy commanding word.
Ride with majestic sway:
And make thy foes obey.
When all the chosen race
To sing thy conquering grace;
Among that favour'd band! And I, with them, thy praise will sound
Throughout Immanuel's land,
81. The pardoning God. Micah vii. 18.
GREAT God of wonders! all thy ways
Are matchless, godlike, and divine; But the fair glories of thy grace,
More godlike and unrivall’d shine: Who is a pardoning God like thee? Or who has grace so rich and free? Crimes of such horror to forgive!
Such guilty daring worms to spare! This is thy grand prerogative,
And none shall in the honour share: Who is a pardoning God like thee? Or who has grace so rich and free? Angels and men, resign your claim
To pity, mercy, love and grace; These glories crown Jehovah's name
With an incomparable blaze: Who is a pardoning God like thee? Or who has grace so rich and free? In wonder lost, with trembling joy,
We take the pardon of our God; Pardon for crimes of deepest dye,
A pardon seal'd with Jesu's blood: Who is a pardoning God like thee? Or who hath grace so rich and free?
O may this strange, this matchless graçe,
This godlike miracle of love,
And all the angelic choirs above!
sinful. ULVERSTON. WHAT mean these jealousies and fears,
As if the Lord was loth to save, Or lov'd to see us drench'd in tears,
And sink with sorrow to the grave ?
Or rules he by an iron rod ?
Is he a tyrant, or a God?
So much his tender bowels grieve, As this unkind injurious thought,
That he's unwilling to forgive. What tho' our crimes are black as night,
Or glowing like the crimson morn; Immanuel's blood will make them white
As snow through the pure æther borne. Lord, 'tis amazing grace we own,
And well may rebel-worms surprize; But was not thy incarnate Son
A most amazing sacrifice?
“ I've found a ransom," saith the Lord,
”No humble penitent shall die:" Lord, we would now believe thy word,
And thy unbounded mercies try! 83. Desiring Communion with God.
To perfect happiness aspires,
Where I might find my God;
pour my woes abroad,