HYMN VII For WHITSUNDAY. HOME, Holy Ghoft! Creator, come, infpire the fouls of thine; COM Till ev'ry heart which thou haft made 2 Thou art the Comforter, the gift 3 Thy gifts are manifold, thou writ'ft 5 Affift our minds, by nature frail, Drive far from us the mortal foe, That, by thy guidance bleft, we may 6 Teach us the Father to confefs, COMM HYMN VII. For the fame. OME, Holy Spirit, Heav'nly Doye, with all thy quick'ning pow'rs; Kindle a flame of facred love, in these cold hearts of ours. 2 See how we grovel here below, fond of these earthly toys; Our fouls, how heavily they go, to reach eternal joys! 3 In vain we tune our lifeless fongs, Hofannas languish on our tongues, 4 Come, Holy Spirit, Heav'nly Dove, HYMN VIII. E's come! let ev'ry knee be bent, Sing, ye redeem'd, with one confent, "The Comforter is come." 2 What greater gift, what greater love, could God on man beftow? Angels for this rejoice above, let man rejoice below! 3 Hail, Bleffed Spirit! may each foul thy facred influence feel; 4 Do thou each finful thought controul, Thou to the confcience doft convey HYMN IX. For the HOLY COMMUNION. **TH HOU, God, all glory, honour, pow'r, art worthy to receive; Since all things by thy pow'r were made, and by thy bounty live. 2 And worthy is the Lamb all pow'r, honour, and wealth to gain, Glory and ftrength; who, for our fins, 3 All worthy thou, who haft redeem'd, 4 § Bleffing and honour, glory, pow'r, I To Him that fits upon the throne, and to the Lamb be giv'n. MY HYMN X. For the fame. Y God, and is thy Table spread? * Chap. iv. + Chap. v. 12. Thither be all thy children led, and let them thy fweet mercies know! 2 Hail facred Feaft, which Jefus makes! rich banquet of his flesh and blood! Thrice happy he who here, partakes that facred ftream, that heav'nly food! 3 Why are its dainties all in vain before unwilling hearts difplay'd? and furnish'd well with joyful guests; 5 Drawn by thy quick'ning grace, O Lord! 1 till through the world thy truth has run, Till with this bread all men be bleft who fee the light, or feel the fun! A HYMN XI. For the fame. ND are we now brought near to God, who once at diftance ftood? And, to effect this glorious change, did Jefus fhed his blood? 2 O for a fong of ardent praise, to bear our fouls above! What should allay our lively hope, or damp our flaming love! 3 Then let us join the heav'nly Choirs, to praise our Heav'nly King! 4 O may that love which spread this board, infpire us while we fing Glory to God in higheft ftrains, "and to the earth be peace; "Good will from heav'n to men is come; " and let it never cease!" 'T You On the NEW-YEAR.O HE God of life, whofe conftant care With bleffings crowns each op'ning year, My fcanty fpan doth ftill prolong, And wakes anew mine annual fong. 2 How many precious fouls are fled To the vaft regions of the dead, Since to this day the changing fun Through his laft yearly period run. 3 We yet furvive; but who can fay, "Or through this year, or month, or day, "I fhall retain this vital breath, ( 4 5 "Thus far, at leaft, in league with death?" 'Tis thine to fix my foul's abode; It holds its life from thee alone, A Though death fhould blaft the rifing year. Gent HYMN XIII. The CHRISTIAN'S HOPE. WE I see my Maker, face to face; 2 If yet, while pardon may be found, 3 My heart with inward horror fhrinks, When thou, O Lord, fhalt ftand difclos 'd And fit in judgment on my foul; O how fhall I appear! 4 But thou haft told the troubled mind, 5 Then fee the forrow of my heart, And hear my Saviour's dying groans, 6 For never fhall my foul defpair 7 Who knows thy only Son has died, Great God! with wonder and with praise on all thy works I look ; But ftill thy wisdom, pow'r, and grace, 8 The ftars, that in their courses roll, But thy good Word informs my foul how I may foar to heav'n. 9 The fields provide me food, and show the goodness of the Lord; But fruits of life and glory grow in thy most holy Word. 10 Here are my choiceft treasures hid, here my best comfort lies; Here my defires are fatisfy'd, and here my hopes arife. 11 Lord, make me understand thy law, fhow what my faults have been; And from thy Gospel let me draw pardon for all my fin. 12 Here would I learn how Chrift has died to fave my foul from hell; |