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And Satan binds our captive minds Fast in his slavish chains.
2 But there's a voice of sovereign grace Sounds from the sacred word, "Ho, ye despairing sinners, come, "And trust upon the Lord."
3 My soul obeys th' almighty call, And runs to this relief, I would believe thy promise, Lord, O! help my unbelief.
4 [To the dear fountain of thy blood, Incarnate G.o.d, I fly, Here let me wash my spotted soul From crimes of deepest die.
5 Stretch out thine arm victorious King, My reigning sins subdue, Drive the old dragon from his seat, With all his h.e.l.lish crew.]
6 A guilty, weak, and helpless worm, On thy kind arms I fall: Be thou my strength and righteousness, My Jesus, and my all.
Hymn 2:91.
The glory of Christ in heaven.
1 O the delights, the heavenly joys, The glories of the place Where Jesus sheds the brightest beams Of his o'erflowing grace.
2 Sweet majesty and awful love Sit smiling on his brow, And all the glorious ranks above At humble distance bow.
3 [Princes to his imperial Name Bend their bright sceptres down, Dominions, thrones, and powers rejoice To see him wear the crown.]
4 Archangels sound his lofty praise Thro' every heavenly street, And lay their highest honours down Submissive at his feet.
5 Those soft, those blessed feet of his That once rude iron tore, High on a throne of light they stand, And all the saints adore.
6 His head, the dear majestic head That cruel thorns did wound, See what immortal glories shine, And circle it around.
7 This is the Man, th' exalted Man, Whom we unseen adore; But when our eyes behold his face, Our hearts shall love him more.
8 [Lord, how our souls are all on fire To see thy bless'd abode, Our tongues rejoice in tunes of praise To our incarnate G.o.d.
9 And whilst our faith enjoys this sight, We long to leave our clay, And wish thy fiery chariots, Lord, To fetch our souls away.]
Hymn 2:92 The church saved, and her enemies disappointed.
Composed the 5th of November, 1694.
1 Shout to the Lord, and let our joys Thro' the whole nation run; Ye British skies, resound the noise Beyond the rising sun.
2 Thee, mighty G.o.d, our souls admire, Thee our glad voices sing, And join with the celestial choir To praise th' eternal King.
3 Thy power the whole creation rules, And on the starry skies Sits smiling at the weak designs Thine envious foes devise.
4 Thy scorn derides their feeble rage, And with an awful frown Flings vast confusion on their plots, And shakes their Babel down.
5 [Their secret fires in caverns lay, And we the sacrifice: But gloomy caverns strove in vain To 'scape all-searching eyes.
6 Their dark designs were all reveal'd, Their treasons all betray'd: Praise to the G.o.d that broke the snare Their cursed hands had laid.]
7 In vain the busy sons of h.e.l.l Still new rebellions try, Their souls shall pine with envious rage, And vex away and die.
8 Almighty grace defends our land From their malicious power, Let Britain with united songs Almighty grace adore.
Hymn 2:93.
G.o.d all, and in all, Psalm 73. 25.
1 My G.o.d, my life, my love, To thee, to thee I call, I cannot live if thou remove, For thou art all in all.
2 [Thy shining grace can cheer, This dungeon where I dwell; 'Tis paradise when thou art here; If thou depart, 'tis h.e.l.l.]
3 [The smilings of thy face, How amiable they are!
'Tis heaven to rest in thine embrace, And no where else but there.]
4 [To thee, and thee alone, The angels owe their bliss; They sit around thy gracious throne, And dwell where Jesus is.]
5 [Not all the harps above Can make a heavenly place, If G.o.d his residence remove, Or but conceal his face.]
6 Nor earth nor all the sky Can one delight afford; No not a drop of real joy, Without thy presence, Lord.
7 Thou art the sea of love, Where all my pleasures roll, The circle where my pa.s.sions move, And centre of my soul.
8 [To thee my spirits fly With infinite desire; And yet how far from thee I lie!
Dear Jesus, raise me higher!]
Hymn 2:94.
G.o.d my only happiness, Psalm 73. 25.
1 My G.o.d, my portion, and my love, My everlasting all, I've none but thee in heaven above, Or on this earthly ball.
2 [What empty things are all the skies, And this inferior clod!
There's nothing here deserves my joys, There's nothing like my G.o.d.]
3 [In vain the bright, the burning sun Scatters his feeble light; 'Tis thy sweet beams create my noon; If thou withdraw, 'tis night.
4 And whilst upon my restless bed, Amongst the shades I roll, If my Redeemer shew his head 'Tis morning with my soul.]
5 To thee we owe our wealth and friends, And health, and safe abode; Thanks to thy Name for meaner things, But they are not my G.o.d.
6 How vain a toy is glittering wealth, If once compar'd to thee; Or what's my safety, or my health, Or all my friends to me?
7 Were I possessor of the earth, And call'd the stars my own Without thy graces and thyself I were a wretch undone.
8 Let others stretch their arms like seas, And grasp in all the sh.o.r.e, Grant me the visits of thy face, And I desire no more.
Hymn 2:95.