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Alas! and did my Saviour bleed
Author of good! to thee I turn
Awake, my soul; and, with the sun

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Behold the Lamb of God
Blest he whose heart with pity glows

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Come sing the great Jehovah's praise
Creative Spirit, by whose aid,

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Eternal source of ev'ry joy

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From whence those dire portents around

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Glory to thee, my God, this night
Grateful notes and numbers bring
Great God, with wonder and with praise

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How are thy children blest, O Lord
How short and hasty is our life

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o let my soul devoutly think
O Lord, our God, our songs to thee
O spare us, Lord, nor o'er our head
Our Lord is risen from the dead

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Soon as the morn salutes your eyes
Spirit of mercy, truth,.and love

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Thy hand, O God, my life sustain'd
The Judge ascends his awful throne
The Lord Jehovah reigns
The Lord my pastore shall prepare
The righteous souls that take their flight
The Saviour comes, by prophets long foretold
The spacious firmament on high
Thou great and sacred Lord of all
Thou great first Cause, least understood
'Tis God's, whose truth, through ages past
To thee, O Father of mankind
To him, whose temple is all space

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We'll proclaim the wond'rous story .. :.
When all thy mercies, O my God
When rising from the bed of death
Whilst shepherds watch'd their flocks by night
With sorrow and with guilt opprest

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PSALM 1.

O how blest the man, whose ear
Impious counsel shuns to hear;
Who nor loves to tread the

way
Where the sons of folly stray,
Nor their frantic mirth to share,
Seated in Derision's chair;
But, possess'd with sacred awe,
Meditates, Great God! thy law:
This by day his fix'd employ,
This by night his constant joy.
When thy Judge, 0 earth! shall come,
And to each assign their doom,
Say, shall then the impious band
With the just assembled stand ?
These, th’ Almighty,--these alone,
Objects of his love shall own,
While his vengeance who defy,
Whelm'd in endless ruin lie.

PSALM. II.

Thou, O fay God! art my defence,

On thee my hopes rely:
Thou art my glory, and thy hand

Shall lift my head on high.

Insulting men may me upbraid,

And him whom I adore; That God in whom he trusts, say they,

Shall rescue him 'no more.

Yet, whensoever in distress,

To God I made my pray’r, He heard me from his holy hill;

Why should I then despair?

Guarded by him, I lay me down,

My sweet repose to take;
For I through him securely sleep,

Through him in safety wake,

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