2 Death is no more the king of dread,
Since our Immanuel rofe;

He took the tyrant's fting away,"
And spoil'd our hellish foes.

3 See, how the Conqu'ror mounts aloft,
And to his Father flies !

With fcars of honour in his flesh,
And triumph in his eyes.

4 There our exalted Saviour reigns,
And scatters bleffings down;
Our Jefus fills the middle feat
Of the celeftial throne.

5 [Raise your devotion, mortal tongues,
To reach his blefs'd abode ;
Sweet be the accents of your fongs
To our incarnate God.

6 Bright angels, ftrike your loudeft ftrings,
Your sweetest voices raise ;
Let heav'n, and all created things,
Sound our Immanuel's praise.]

I

HYMN LXXVII. Long Metre.
The Chriftian Warfare.

STAND up, my foul, fhake off thy fears,
And gird the gospel armour on ;

March to the gates of endlefs joy,
Where thy great Captain-Saviour's gone.
2 Hell and thy fins refift thy courfe;
But hell and fin are vanquish'd foes;
Thy Jefus nail'd them to the erofs,
And fung the triumph when he rofe.

3 [What though the prince of darkness rage,
And wafte the fury of his fpite?
Eternal chains confine him down
To fiery deeps and endless night.

4 What though thine inward lufts rebel?
'Tis but a struggling gafp for life ;

The weapons of victorious grace Shall flay thy fins and end the ftrife.] Then let my foul march boldly on, Prefs forward to the heav'nly gate; There peace and joy eternal reign, And glitt'ring robes for conqu'rors wait. 6 There fhall I wear a ftarry crown, And triumph in Almighty grace, While all the armies of the skies Join in my glorious Leader's praise. HYMN LXXVIII. Common Metre. Redemption by Chrift.

I

WHEN the firft parents of our race

Rebell'd, and loft their God,

And the infection of their fin

Had tainted all our blood;

2 Infinite pity touch'd the heart
Of the eternal Son;

Defcending from the heav'nly court,
He left his Father's throne.

3 Afide the Prince of glory threw
His most divine array;

And wrapp'd his Godhead in a veil
Of our inferior clay.

4 His living pow'r, and dying love,
Redeem'd unhappy men ;

And rais'd the ruins of our race
To life and God again.

To thee, dear Lord, our flesh and foul
We joyfully refign;
Bleft Jefus, take us for thy own,

For we are doubly thine.

6 Thine honour fhall forever be

The bus'nefs of our days, Forever fhall our thankful tongues Speak thy deferved praise,

Common Metre.

HYMN LXXIX.

I

PLUN

Praife to the Redeemer.

LUNG'D in a gulph of dark defpair,
We, wretched finners, lay;

Without one cheerful beam of hope,
Or fpark of glimm❜ring day.

2 With pitying eyes, the Prince of grace
Beheld our helpless grief;

He faw-and (O! amazing love!)
He ran to our relief.

3 Down from the fhining feats above
With joyful hafte he fled,
Enter'd the grave, in mortal flesh,
And dwelt among the dead.

4 He spoil'd the pow'rs of darkness thus,
And brake our iron chains;
Jefus has freed our captive fouls
From everlasting pains.

5 [In vain the baffled prince of hell
His curfed projects tries;

We, that were doom'd his endless llaves,
Are rais'd above the skies.]

6 Oh! for this love, let rocks and hills
Their lafting filence break,

And all harmonious human tongues
The Saviour's praises speak.

7 [Yes, we will praise thee, dearest Lord;
Our fouls are all on flame;
Hofanna, round the fpacious earth,
To thine adored name!

Angels, affift our mighty joys;

Strike all your harps of gold:

But when you raife your highest notes,
His love can ne'er be told.]

I

HYMN LXXX. Short Metre,
God's awful Power and Goodness.

H! the almighty Lord!

How matchie's is his pow'r ! Tremble, O earth, beneath his word, While all the heav'ns adore.

2 Let proud imperious kings

3

4

Bow low before his throne !
Crouch to his feet, ye haughty things,
Or he fhall tread you down.

Above the fkies he reigns,
And with amazing blows,
He deals infufferable pains
On his rebellious foes.

Yet, everlafting God,

We love to speak thy praife;
Thy fceptre's equal to thy rod,
The fceptre of thy grace.

5 The arms of mighty love
Defend our Zion well;
And heav'nly mercy walls us round
From Babylon and hell.

6 Salvation to the King

Who fits enthron'd above :
Thus we adore the God of might,
And blefs the God of love.

HYMN LXXXI. Common Metre.
Our Sin the Laufe of Chrift's Death.

I

ΑΝ

ND now the fcales have left mine eyes,
Now I begin to fee:

Oh, the curs'd deeds my fins have done!
What murd'rous things they be !

2 Were these the traitors, dearest Lord,
That thy fair body tore ?

Monsters, that ftain'd thofe heav'nly limbs
With floods of purple gore?

3 Was it for crimes that I had done,
My deareft Lord was flain;
When juftice feiz'd God's only Son,
And put his foul to pain?

4 Forgive my guilt, O Prince of peace!
I'll wound my God no more:

Hence, from my heart, ye fins, be gone,
For Jefus I adore.

5 Furnish me, Lord, with heav'nly arms
From grace's magazine;

And I'll proclaim eternal war
With ev'ry darling fin.

HYMN LXXXII.

Σ

Common Metre.

Redemption and Protection from fpiritual Enemies.

ARISE, my foul, my joyful pow'rs,

And triumph in my God;

Awake, my voice, and loud proclaim
His glorious grace abroad.

2 He rais'd me from the deeps of fin,
The gates of gaping hell,
And fix'd my ftanding more secure
Than 'twas before I fell.

3 The arms of everlasting love
Beneath my foul he plac'd,
And on the Rock of Ages fet
My flipp'ry footsteps faft.

4 The city of my blefs'd abode
Is wall'd around with grace;
Salvation for a bulwark ftands
To fhield the facred place.

5 Satan may vent his fharpeft fpite,
And all his legions roar;

Almighty mercy guards my life,
And bounds his raging pow'r.