Imatges de pÓgina

O let our entertainment now
Be so exceeding sweet,

That we may long to come again,
And at thy altar meet.


An HYMN after the Sacrament.

ORD, any mercy short of hell,
For me it is too good;

But have I eat the flesh of Christ,
And also drank his blood?

Mysterious depths of endless love
My admiration raise!
O God, thy name exalted is
Above the highest praise!

. My Saviour's flesh is meat indeed,
His blood is drink divine;
His graces drop like hony-combs,
His comforts taste like wine.

This day Christ has refresh'd my soul
With his abundant grace ;

For which I magnify his name,
Longing to see his face.

When shall my soul ascend on high,

Most Holy, Just, and True!
To eat that bread and drink that wine!
Which is for ever new?

To him that sits upon the throne,
The Lamb whom we adore,

Be glory, blessing, strength, renown,
And honour evermore.

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A SONG of Praise for the Lord's Supper.

Praise the Lord; with hymns of joy
Sing praises to his name;

O all ye saints of heav'n and earth,
Extol and laud his fame:

Who spared not his only Son,

But gave him for us all,

And made him drink the cup of wrath,
The wormwood and the gall.

Frail nature shrunk, and did request
The bitter cup might pass:
But he must drink it off, and this
The Father's pleasure was.
"Lo, then, I come to do thy will,"
His blessed Son reply'd ;.

And meekly yielding to the cross,
He stretch'd his arms and dy'd.

He dy'd indeed, but rose again,
And did ascend on high;

That we poor sinners, lost and dead,
Might live eternally.

Good Lord! how many souls in hell

Doth vengeance vex and tear!

O! had not Jesus interpos'd,
Our dwelling had been there.

His blood was shed instead of ours,
His soul our guilt did bear;
He took our sins upon himself:
O love beyond compare!
Whatever is not hell itself,
For us it is too good:

But shall we eat the flesh of Christ?
And shall we drink his blood?

His flesh is heav'nly food indeed!
His blood is drink divine!
His graces drop like honey-falls,
His comforts taste like wine.
Thou, Jesu! hast refresh'd our souls
With thine abundant grace ;
For which we magnify thy name,
And long to see thy face.

When shall our souls mount up to thee,

Most holy, just, and true,

To eat that bread, and drink that wine
Which is for ever new?

An HYMN: A Longing for Heaven,

When shall I come to thee!
When shall my labours have an end?
Thy joys when shall we see?

Thy gates are richly set with pearls,
Most glorious to behold:

Thy walls are all of precious stone,
Thy streets are pav'd with gold.

Thy gardens and thy pleasant fruits
Continually are green:

So sweet a sight by human eye
Has never yet been seen.

If heaven be thus glorious, Lord,
Why must I keep from thence?


What folly is't that makes me loth
To die and go from hence?

Reach down, reach down thine arm of grace,
And cause me to ascend,
Where congregations ne'er break up,
And sabbaths have no end.

When wilt thou come to me, O Lord!
O come, my Lord, most dear!
Come nearer, nearer, nearer still;
I'm well when thou art near.

My dear Redeemer is above,
Him will I go to see ;

And all my friends in Christ below.
Shall soon come after me.

Jerusalem! my happy home,
O how I long for thee!

Then shall my labours have an end,

When once thy joys I see.

Amen Hallelujah.

Rev. xxii. 20.

Come, Lord, Jesus.

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