Soon, fhall learn th' exalted strains,
Which echo thro' the heav'nly plans,
And emulate, with joy unknown,
The glowing feraphs round thy throne.,

Now

ow by the bowels of my Gon,
Histharp diftref, his fore complaints,
By his last grones, his dying blood,
I charge my foul to love his faints.

gone,

& Clamour and wrath and war be Envy and fpite for ever ceale, Lep bitter words nomore be know Assad Among the faints, the fons of peace.

irit, like a peaceful dove,

3. The fpirit, ke

Flies from the realms of no fe and trife;
Why Hould we vex and grieve his love,,
Wha feals our fouls to heav'nly lite?

4 Tender and kind be all our thoughts;
Thro' all our lives let mercy run,
So God forgives our num'rous faults,
For the dear fake of CHRIST his Son.

HYMN 197.

THE PROMÍS'D LAND. ISA. XXXÏii. 17.

FAR Unbounded glories rife,

AR from thefe narrow fcenes of night,

And realms of infinite delight,
Unknown to mortal eyes

2 There pain and fickness never come,
And grief no more complains,
Health triumphs in immortal bloom,
And endless pleasure reigns.

3 No clouds those blifsful regions know, For ever bright and fair!

For fin, the fource of mortal woe,
Can never enter there.

4 There no alternate night is known,"
Nor fun's faint fickly ray;
But glory from the facred throne
Spreads everlasting day.

5 O may the heav'nly profpect fire

Our hearts with ardent love, H Till wings of faith and ftrong defire.

Bear ev'ry thought above.

6 Prepare us, LORD, by grace divine For thy bright courts on high.

Then bid our cource divine

rife and join

The chorus of the sky.

1

HYMN 198.1

FAITH SHEWN BY WORKS.

let our lips and lives exprefs
The holy gospel we profefs

So let our works and virtues fhine,
To prove the doctrine all divine.

2 Thus fhall we belt proclaim abroad
The honours of our SAVIOUR-Gob,
When the falvation reigns within,
And grace fubdues the pow'r of fin. !
3 Our flesh and fenfe must be deny'd,
Paffion and envy, luft and pride,
While juftice, temp'rance, truth and love,
Our inward piety approve.

4 Religion bears our fpirits up,
While we expect that bleffed hope,
The bright appearance of the Lord,
And faith stands leaning on his word.

I

HYMN 199

HAPPY POVERTY. MATT. V. 3.

YE humble fouls complain no more;

Let faith furvey your future ftore:

How happy, how divinely bleft,

The facred words of truth atteft.

2 When confcious grief laments fincere,"
And pours the penitential tear,
Hope points to your dejected eyes,
The bright reverfion in the skies.

3

In vain the fons of wealth and pride & Despise your lot, your hopes deride; In vain they boaft their little ftores,. Trifles are theirs, a kingdom yours. 4 There fhall your eyes with rapture view The glorious friend that dy'd for you; That dy'd to ransɔm, dy'd to raise To crowns of joy, and fongs of praise. 5 JESUS, to thee I breathe my pray'r: Reveal, confirm my int'reft there! Whate'er my humble lot below, This, this my foul defires to know. 6 O let me hear that voice divine Pronounce the glorious blefing mine! Enroll'd among the happy poor, My largest wifhes afk no more.

HYMN

200

SINS AND SORROWS LAID BEFORE GOD!

That we knew the fecret place

Where we might find our GOD! We'd spread our wants before his face, And pour our woes abroad.