Inflame our hearts with holy zeal,
And pure celestial fire;

To honour all thy righteous will
Is what we most desire.

The spirit of our fathers give,
Who nobly stood for God;
In persecution's flame did live,
And seal'd the truth with blood.

O never let our love grow cold,
Nor flaming zeal expire;

For grace and truth may we be bold,
Inflam'd with heavenly fire.

Through faith and hope, and life and love,

O may we sweetly rise,

Soaring through grace to things above,

To grasp th' eternal prize.

HYMN XII. C. M.

The best Robe.

Now for a wondrous song,
(Keep distance, ye profane;
Be silent each unhallow'd tongue,
Nor turn the truth to bane:)

The prodigal's return'd;

Th' apostate bold and base;
That all his father's counsels spurn'd,

And long abused his grace.

What treatment since he came?

Love, tenderly exprest;

C.

What robe is brought to hide his shame?

The best the very best.

Ye elder sons be still,

Give no vile passion vent:

My brethren, 'tis our father's will,

And you must be content.

All that he has is yours;
Rejoice, and not repine:

That love that all your states secures,
That love has alter'd mine.

Good God! are these thy ways?
If rebels thus are freed,

And favour'd with peculiar grace,
Grace must be free indeed!

Hart.

HYMN XIV. L. M.

The Ring.

BEHOLD! a prodigal in tears!

He loathes the swine, nor husks can eat;
Remorse his tortur'd bosom tears,
And lays him famish'd at thy feet.

See, Lord, the exile from afar,
Returns, his father's house to seek ;
Ah! manifest a parent's care,
And fall around the wand'rer's neck.

Give me the welcome kiss of peace,
My naked soul with robes adorn;
Give me the robe of righteousness,
By none but favour'd children worn.

The precious ring of endless love,
On me, my gracious God, bestow:
I'll then rejoice with those above,
And all thy will perform celow.

Needy, unclean, and vile and poor,
Deepest distress my state attends;
Begs not my soul at any door
But thine, which prodigals befriends.

I hear that those who ask receive,
That those who seek are sure to find;
That those who knock shall entrance have,
And prove the Lord is good and kind.

HYMN XV. C. M.

The two Resurrections.

THE praise of Christ ye Christians sound,
His mighty acts be told;
Death has receiv'd a mortal wound;
He takes-but cannot hold.

Thou lowly Jesus, give us all
Our sinfulness to see;

Not in ourselves we dare to boast,
But humbly boast in thee.

What hast thou promis'd, dearest Lord,
To humble spirits here?
"Tis to bestow the choicest good,
And dry the flowing tear.

Lord, conquer pride, that vilest sin;
Bid all its power depart;

May we all tread thy sacred paths,
In lowliness of heart.

Conform us more like saints above,
Who all thy glory see;

Who cast their crowns before thy feet,

And lose themselves in thee.

Burnham.

1

HYMN XVII. C. M.

Christ a Priest.

OUR great High Priest atonement made,
To expiate our guilt;

The law fulfill'd, the ransom paid,
When his rich blood was spilt.

The types and shadows fled away
At his superior light;

So sol's bright beams the op'ning day,
Dispel the shades of night.

Ten thousand beasts on altars slain,
With seas of flowing blood,

The sinner's pardon could not gain,
Or bring one soul to God.

A nobler sacrifice than they
Our great High Priest provide,
Stern justice did the victim slay,
And seeks for none beside.

In him a righteousness complete,
Light and perfections shine;
And wisdom, grace, and glory meet
A Saviour all divine!

HYMN XVIII. C. M.

The Trial of the Heart.

Cobby

RETIRED from the world and noise,

My busy heart inquires,
What is the bent of all thy joys,
The scope of thy desires?

Come they from heav'n, celestial Dove?
Or come they, earth, from thee?
By sacred truth its source I'll prove,
And by its tendings see.

Great God, thy penetrating eye
Surveys what mortals do;
And all the creatures thou hast made
Stand open to thy view.

No darkness can from thee conceal,
For day and night are thine;
Thou know'st the actions I perform,
The things that I design.

Who can thy powerful hand escape,
Or from thy presence flee?
Nothing I think, or say, or do,

Can be conceal'd from thee.

Then search and try my inmost soul,
And form it all anew;

Sow there the seeds of ev'ry grace,

And ev'ry lust subdue.

Beddome.