Part 11 (1/2)

1 Behold what wondrous grace The Father hath bestow'd On sinners of a mortal race, To call them sons of G.o.d!

2 'Tis no surprising thing That we should be unknown; The Jewish world knew not their King, G.o.d's everlasting Son.

3 Nor doth it yet appear How great we must be made; But when we see our Saviour here, We shall be like our head.

4 A hope so much divine May trials well endure, May purge our souls from sense and sin, As Christ the Lord is pure.

5 If in my Father's love I share a filial part, Send down thy Spirit like a dove To rest upon my heart.

6 We would no longer lie Like slaves beneath the throne; My faith shall Abba, Father, cry, And thou the kindred own.

Hymn 1:65.

The kingdoms of the world become the kingdoms of our Lord; or, The day of judgment, Rev. 11. 15-18.

1 Let the seventh angel sound on high, Let shouts be heard thro' all the sky; Kings of the earth, with glad accord Give up your kingdoms to the Lord.

2 Almighty G.o.d, thy power a.s.sume, Who wast, and art, and art to come: Jesus, the Lamb, who once was slain, For ever live, for ever reign.

3 The angry nations fret and roar, That they can slay the saints no more; On wings of vengeance flies our G.o.d To pay the long arrears of blood.

4 Now must the rising dead appear, Now the decisive sentence hear; Now the dear martyrs of the Lord Receive an infinite reward.

Hymn 1:66.

Christ the King at his table, Cant. (Transcriber's Note: Song of Solomon) 1. 2-5 12 13 17.

1 Let him embrace my soul, and prove Mine interest in his heavenly love: The voice that tells me, ”Thou art mine,”

Exceeds the blessings of the vine.

2 On thee th' anointing Spirit came, And spreads the savour of thy name; That oil of gladness and of grace Draws virgin souls to meet thy face.

3 Jesus, allure me by thy charms, My soul shall fly into thine arms, Our wandering feet thy favours bring To the fair chambers of the King.

4 [Wonder and pleasure tune our voice To speak thy praises and our joys: Our memory keeps this love of thine Beyond the taste of richest wine.]

5 Tho' in ourselves deform'd we are, And black as Kedar tent appear, Yet when we put thy beauties on, Fair as the courts of Solomon.

6 While at his table sits the King, He loves to see us smile and sing; Our graces are our best perfume, And breathe like spikenard round the room.]

7 As myrrh new bleeding from the tree, Such is a dying Christ to me; And while he makes my soul his guest, My bosom, Lord, shall be thy rest.

8 [No beams of cedar or of fir Can with thy courts on earth compare; And here we wait until thy love Raise us to n.o.bler seats above.]

Hymn 1:67.

Seeking the pastures of Christ the Shepherd, Cant. 1.7.

1 Thou whom my soul admires above All earthly joy, and earthly love, Tell me, dear shepherd, let me know, Where doth thy sweetest pasture grow?

2 Where is the shadow of that rock That from the son defends thy flock?