3 [All mortal Things of meaner Frame, 4 [To him be facred all we have, 5 [This Northen Ifle, our native Land, 6 He builds and guards the British Throne, 7 Raife monumental Praises high 9 Thus let our flaming Zeal employ ! 10 [Yet, mighty God, our feeble Frame II. The Death of a Sinner. Y Thoughts on awful Subjects roll, What Horrors feize the guilty Soul 2 Ling'ring about these mortal Shores, Till like a Flood with rapid Force 3 Then swift and dreadful the defcends 4 There endless Crouds of Sinners lie, 5 ; Not all their Anguish and their Blood Nor the Compaffion of a GOD Shall hearken to their Grones. 6 Amazing Grace, that kept my Breath, Till I had learn'd my Saviour's Death, III. The Death and Burial of a Saint. WHY THY do we mourn departing Friends? Or fhake at Death's Alarms?. 'Tis but the Voice that JESUS fends To call them to his Arms. 2 Are we not tending upward too As faft as Time can move?. Nor should we wish the Hours more flow, To keep us from our Love. 3 Why should we tremble to convey There the dear Flesh of JESUS lay, 4 The Graves of all his Saints he blefs'd, 5 Thence he arofe, afcending high, 6 Then let the laft loud Trumpet found, Awake, ye Nations under Ground; I IV. Salvation in the Cross. HERE at thy Crofs my dying GOD, I lay my Soul beneath thy Love, 2 Not all that Tyrants think or fay, If I must perish, there to die. 4 But fpeak, my LORD, and calm my Fear; Am I not fafe beneath thy Shade !. Thy Vengeance will not ftrike me here; Nor Satan dares my Soul invade. 5 Yes, I'm fecure beneath thy Blood, And all my Foes fhall lose their Aim: Hofanna to my dying GOD; And my best Honours to his Name. V. Longing to praife CHRIST better.. [roll ORD, when my Thoughts with Wonder O'er the fharp Sorrows of thy Soul, And read my Maker's broken Laws, Repair'd and honour'd by thy Crofs; 2 When I behold Death, Hell, and Sin, 3 My Paffions rife and foar above, I'm wing'd with Faith, and fir'd with Love; 5 Well, the kind Minute muft appear VI. A Morning Song. ONCE more, my Soul, the rifing Day Salutes thy waking Eyes; Once more, my Voice, thy Tribute pay To Him that rules the Skies. 2 Night unto Night his Name repeats, Wide as the Heav'n on which he fits 3 'Tis he fupports my mortal Frame; |