4 Hark, O my soul, what sing the choirs 5 This, while on earth, we will declare Cheerful in our degree, That thro' the blood of God's dear Lamb 346. T. 132. O IF the Lamb had not been slain, What had been our condition? 2. With all our errors and mistakes He bears, and loves us dearly; A contrite soul He ne'er forsakes, That acteth but sincerely. When the whole heart to him is giv'n We have a foretaste here of heav'n, In fellowship with Jesus. 3 When we have fail'd and deeply mourn That we the Spirit grieved, And to our Lord for comfort turn, We quickly are relieved: Whene'er we say, with humble shame, "Lord Jesus, I have been to blame," He saith," Thou art forgiven." 4 As pardon'd sinners we rejoice, With Jesus' congregation; Above all other things we prize His bitter death and passion; His wounds, his tears,and bloody sweat, We bear in mind, and can't forget His unexampled mercy. 347. T. 14. AMAZING grace! (how sweet the sound!) I P 2 once was lost, but now am found, That sav'd a wretch like me; Was blind, but now I see. 'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, And grace my fears reliev'd; How precious did that grace appear The hour I first believ'd! 3 Thro' many dangers, toils and snares, I am already come; 'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home. 4 The Lord hath promis'd good to me, His word my hope secures; He will my Shield and Portion be As long as life endures. 5 Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail, And mortal life shall cease, I shall possess within the vail, 348. T. 22. MY Saviour left his throne, and came 349.* T. 4. DEAR Lord, when I trace The offers of grace Received from thee,-Thy drawings of love from my first infancy; 2 I fall at thy feet; Thy mercy's so great, I'm lost in amaze :-Thy love and forbearance all thoughts far surpass. XX. Of Thankfulness of the Heart for Jesus' Incarnation 353.* T. 119. and Death. THANKS and praise, :||: 2 For thy death :||: Thou art worthy, Lamb of God, 3 O how great :||: From the fulness of our Saviour! To our Redeemer's glorious name O may his love (immortal flame!) 2 His love what angel's thought can reach? What mortal's tongue display? 3 He left his radiant throne on high, 4 Dear Lord, while we adoring pay Our humble thanks to thee, May ev'ry heart with rapture say: "The Saviour dy'd for me." ANGELS, principalities, As the Author of their frame; 2 Thanks for thy suff'rings, tears, and Praise him for his incarnation, cries, And groans in thy distress; The source of never-fading joys, And endless happiness. Human life and bitter passion, And adore his saving name. 359.* T. 590. 3 Thanks for thy thirst, O Prince of WHAT strikes, O wounded Lamb of peace, When hanging on the tree; What a divine refreshment this To souls athirst for thee! God, My soul so sensibly? 'Tis when I view the fervent love, That urged thee to die; 4 Thanks for thy last heart-piercing cry, And feel that from thy precious blood, And meritorious death: Grant we may all on thee rely, And live a life of faith. 356. T. 167. SING with humble hearts your praises, For our Saviour's boundless grace; Pay due homage to Christ Jesus, Come with thanks before his face : Praise him for his death and bleeding, All our happiness lies there; Praise him for his gracious leading, Praise faithful Shepherd's care. 2 Thou to purchase our salvation Didst assume humanity; your Jesus, for thy bitter passion, * 357.* T. 244. REDEEMED congregation, Extol with one accord The God of our salvation, Sing praises to the Lord: So freely shed for me, Flows all my happiness in time, 2 This grace, as long as life shall last, Who dust and ashes am: 'Tis deeply rooted in my heart, Eras'd it ne'er shall be, 3 Thy mercy may I ne'er forget, Of ceaseless happiness. 4 With contrite tears I thee adore, If thou support me with thy aid, 5 Whenever my frail nature swerves 6 O thou, who to redeem my soul 7 Thy suff'rings then, and bitter death, All that which gives thee pain; For nothing now which this vain world Can offer or devise, 3 I see him in the garden Shed floods of bitter tears, Can yield me any further joy, 360.* T. 151. BEHOLD, my soul, thy Saviour Thy ev'ry pain he eases, In him thou find'st relief, Rise then, and sing his praises, Who turns to joy thy grief. 2 How is my soul delighted, Tho' shame o'erspreads my face, When I, by faith excited, The Lamb of God can trace, My Saviour loveth me, His back plough'd o'er with furrows, His boundless love declare. 5 My fav'rite theme is Jesus, Ah, view him on the cross! I could not bear to live. On him I fix mine eyes, I thank thee for thy grace; 361.* T. 146. LORD Jesus, who for me Hast endless bliss obtained, And as thy property My soul by blood regained: Accept a weeping eye, A warm and grateful heart, Tho' a thank-off'ring poor, Yet take it in good part. 2 Jesus, thy dying love And thy blood-bought salvation, By day and night shall prove My fav'rite meditation. When I commune with thee, As tho' before mine I saw thee bodily; My faith this vivifies. 3 I look to Golgotha, eyes For me I view thee languish, And melt like wax away Before thy pain and anguish ; By faith I see God's wrath In what on thee did fall, The fountain too and bath For offences all. my 4 Most gracious God and Lord! Mankind's almighty Saviour! Worthy to be ador'd By all both now and ever! Those souls are blest indeed Who thee embrace by faith, As thou for us wast laid Low in the dust of death. 5 In thee I trust by faith, Jesus, my God and Saviour; On thy atoning death My soul shall feed for ever; Thy suff'rings shall remain Deep on my heart imprest, Thou Son of God and man! Till I with thee shall rest. I revere-him with fear: 2 Heart-reviving is the view 3 Lamb of God, all praise to thee! 363.* T. 97. THANKS to the Man of sorrows be, Had he not shed his blood our debt to pay, [prey. We still had been the devil's wretched 2 O had not Jesus' blood been shed, No ray of hope to cheer our mind; 3 Rise, brethren, we to all the earth Our Lord's atonement will set forth, Will love our Master unto death, And humbly cleave to him by faith. Lord Jesus, be thou prais'd eternally, If there no Jesus were, what should we be! 364.* T. 146. Defil'd by sin and stained, For our blest lot of grace. |