5 Then in a nobler, sweeter song

I'll sing thy pow'r to save;

When this poor lisping, stamm'ring tongue,

Lies silent in the grave.

COWPER.

HYMN 51. C. M. Medfield.

Jesus Precious. 1 Pet. ii. 7.

1 Jesus! I love thy charming name, 'Tis music to my ear;

Fain would I sound it out so loud,

That earth and heav'n might hear.

2 Whate'er my noblest pow'rs can wish,
In thee doth richly meet;
Not to my eyes is light so dear,
Nor friendship half so sweet.

3 Thy grace still dwells upon my heart,
And sheds its fragrance there;
The noblest balm of all its wounds,
The cordial of its care.

4 I'll speak the honors of thy name,
With my last lab'ring breath;

Then speechless, clasp thee in mine arms—

And trust thy love in death.

DODDRIDGE.

HYMN 52. 8s. & 7s. Sicily.

1 Hail, my ever blessed Jesus! Only thee I wish to sing;

To my soul thy name is precious,

Thou my Prophet, Priest, and King.

2 Oh, what mercy flows from heaven!
Oh, what joy and happiness!
Love I much? I've much forgiven-
I'm a miracle of grace.

3 Once, with Adam's race in ruin,
Unconcern'd in sin 1 lay;
Swift destruction still pursuing,
Till my Saviour pass'd that way.

4 Witness all ye hosts of heav'n,
My Redeemer's tenderness!
Love I much? I've much forgiven-
I'm a miracle of grace.

5 Shout, ye bright angelic choir! Praise the Lamb enthron'd above; While astonish'd, I admire

God's free grace and boundless love.

6 That bless'd moment I received him,
Fill'd my soul with joy and peace;
Love I much? I've much forgiven-
I'm a miracle of grace.

WINGROVE.

HYMN 53. L. M. Pilesgrove.

Christ dying, Rising, and Reigning.

1 He dies!-the friend of sinners dies!
Lo! Salem's daughters weep around!
A solemn darkness veils the skies;
A sudden trembling shakes the ground!

2 Ye saints, approach!-the anguish view,
Of him who groans beneath your load;
He gives his precious life for you,
For you he sheds his precious blood.

3 Here's love and grief beyond degree-
The Lord of glory dies for men!
But, lo! what sudden joys we see!
Jesus, the dead-revives again!

4 The rising God forsakes the tomb! Up to his Father's court he flies!

Cherubic legions guard him home,

And shout him-welcome to the skies!

5 Break off your tears, ye saints and tell
How high our great deliv'rer reigns;
Sing how he spoil'd the hosts of hell,
And led the tyrant death in chains.

6 Say, "Live forever glorious King; "Born to redeem, and strong to save!" Then ask-"O death, where is thy sting? "And where thy vict'ry, boasting grave." WATTS.

HYMN 54. 7s.

Christ the refuge from the storm.

1 Jesus, Saviour of my soul!

Let me to thy bosom fly;
While the raging billows roll,
While the tempest still is high.
All my trust on thee is stayed;
All my help from thee I bring;
Cover my defenceless head

With the shadow of thy wing.

2 Other refuge have I noneHelpless hangs my soul on thee. Leave, oh! leave me not alone;

Still support and comfort me, Hide, me O my Saviour! hide, Till the storm of life is past;

Safe into the haven guide;

Oh receive my soul at last. CHURCH PSALMODY.

HYMN 55. L. M.

Wells.

Mark 8. 38.

Not ashamed of Jesus.

1 Jesus! and shall it ever be,
A mortal man asham'd of thee!

Scorn'd be the thought, by rich and poor,
O may I scorn it more and more.

2 Asham'd of Jesus!-sooner far
Let evening blush to own a star;
He sheds the beams of light divine,
O'er this benighted soul of mine.

3 Asham'd of Jesus!-that dear friend,
On whom my hopes of heav'n depend!
No! when I blush, be this my shame,
That I no more revere his name.

4 Asham'd of Jesus!-yes I may—
When I've no sins to wash away;
No tear to wipe, no good to crave,
No fear to quell, no soul to save.

5 Till then, (nor is my boasting vain,)
Till then I boast a Saviour slain!
And, O! may this my glory be,
That Christ is not asham'd of me.

HYMN 56. 8s. and 7s. Sicily.

Suppliant address to the Saviour.

1 Jesus! full of all compassion,
Hear thy humble suppliant's cry;
Let me know thy great salvation;
See, I languish, faint, and die.

2 Guilty, but with heart relenting,
Overwhelm'd with helpless grief-
Prostrate at thy feet repenting—
Send, O! send me quick relief.

3 Whither should a wretch be flying,
But to him, who comfort gives?
Whither from the dread of dying,
But to him, who ever lives?

GRIGG.

4 On the word thy blood hath sealed,
Hangs my everlasting all;
Let thine arm be now revealed,
Stay, O! stay me, lest I fall!

5 In the world of endless ruin,
Let it never, Lord! be said,
"Here's the soul that perish'd sueing
For the boasted Saviour's aid."

6 Sav'd-the deed shall spread new glory
Thro' the shining realms above;
Angels sing the pleasing story,
All enraptur'd with thy love.

HYMN 57. 8s. and 7s. Sicily.

Grateful recollections.

1 Come thou Fount of ev'ry blessing!
Tune my heart to sing thy grace;
Streams of mercy never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above;
Praise the mount-I'm fix'd upon it-
Mount of God's unchanging love,

2 Here I raise my Ebenezer,
Hither by thy help I'm come;
And I hope, by thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wand'ring from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interpos'd with precious blood.

3 O! to grace how great a debtor,
Daily I'm constrain❜d to be!
Let that grace now, like a fetter,
Bind my wand'ring heart to thee;

TURNER.