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HYMN 126.

(C. M.)
Death of a Young Person.
1 HOW short the race our friend has run,

Cut down in all his bloom!
The course but yesterday begun

Now finish'à in the tomb!
2 Thou joyous youth! hence learn how soon

Thy years may end their flight:
Long, long before life's brilliant noon

May come death's gloomy night.
3 To serve thy God no longer wait,

To-day his voice regard ;
To-morrow, mercy's open gate

May be for ever barr’d.
4 And thus the Lord reveals his grace,

Thy youthful love to gain;
The soul that early seeks my face

Shall ncver seek in vain.

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HYMN 127.

Death of an Infant.
1 AS the sweet flow'r that scents the morn,

But withers in the rising day;
Thus lovely was this infant's dawn

Thus swiftly fled its life away.
2 It died ere its expanding soul

Had ever burnt with wrong desires,
Had ever spurn'd at heav'n's control,

Or ever quench'd its sacred fires.
3 It died to sin, it died to cares,

But for a moment felt the rod :
O mourner! such, the Lord declares,

Such are the children of our God!

HYMN 128.

(III. 1.)
1 SINNERS, turn, why will ye die?
God, your Maker, asks you why?
God, who did your being give,
Made you with himself to live;
He the fatal cause demands,
Asks the work of his own hands;
Why, ye thankless creatures, why
Will ye cross his love, and die?

2 Sinners, turn, why will ye die?

God, your Saviour, asks you why?
He, who did your souls retrieve,
Died himself that ye might live.
Will you let hini die in vain?
Crucify your Lord again ?
Why, ye ransom'd sinners, why

Will ye slight his grace, and die ? 3 Sinners, turn, why will ye die ?

God, the Spirit, asks you why?
He who all your lives hath strove,
Woo'd you to embrace his love:
Will ye not his grace receive?
Will ye still refuse to live?
O, ye dying sinners, why,
Why will ye for ever die ?
HYMN 129.

(IIL L) 1 HASTEN, sinner, to be wise ;

Stay not for the morrow's sun: Wisdom, if you still despise,

Harder is it to be won. 2 Hasten, mercy to implore;

Stay not for the morrow's sun; Lest thy season should be o'er,

Ere this ev’ning's stage be run. 3 Hasten, sinner, to return;

Stay not for the morrow's sun; Lest thy lamp should cease to burn,

Ere salvation's work is done. 4 Hasten, sinner, to be blest;

Stay not for the morrow's sun;
Lest perdition thee arrest,
Ere the morrow is begun.
HYMN 130.

(IL 3.) 1 PEACE, troubled soul, whose plaintive moan

Hath taught each scene the note of wo; Cease thy complaint, suppress thy groan,

And let thy tears forget to flow : Behold, the precious balm is found,

To lull thy pain, and heal thy wound, 2 Come, freely come, by sin opprest,

On Jesus cast thy weighty load;
In him thy refuge find, thy rest,

Safe in the mercy of thy God:
Thy God's thy Saviour! glorious word !
O hear, believe, and bless the Lord !

(& M.)

HYMN 131.

Rev. xxii. 17. 20. 1 THE Spirit, in our hearts,

Is whisp'ring, singer, come!
The Bride, the church of Christ, proclaims

To all his children, come! 2 Let him that heareth say

To all about lijm, come!
Let him that thirsts for righteousness,

To Christ, the fountain, come! 3 Yes, whosoever will,

Olet him freely come,
And freely drink the stream of life;

'Tis Jesus bids him come. 4 Lo! Jesus, who invites,

Declares, I quickly come: Lord, even so ! I wait thy hour;

Jesus, my Saviour, come !

(C. M.)

HYMN 132. 1 YE humble souls, approach your God

With songs of sacred praise, For he is good, supremely good,

And kind are all his ways. 2 All nature owns his guardian care,

In him we live and niove; But nobler benefits declare

The wonders of his love. 3 He gave his Son, his only Son,

To ransom rebel worms; "Tis here he makes his goodness known

In its diviner forms. 4 To this dear refuge, Lord, we come, it';

'Tis here our hope relies; A safe defence, a peaceful home,

When storms of trouble rise.
5 Thine eye beholds, with kind regard,

The souls who trust in thee;
Their humble hope thou wilt reward,

· With bliss divinely free.
6 Great God, to thy Almighty love,

What honours shall we raise ! Not all th' angelic songs above

Can render equal praise.



HYMN 133.

(C. M.) 1 APPROACH, my soul, the mercy seat,

Where Jesus answers prayer; There humbly fall before his feet,

For none can perish there.
2 Thy promise is my only plea,

With this I venture nigh;
Thou callest burden'd souls to thee,

And such, O Lord, am I.
3 Bow'd down beneath a load of sin,

By Satan sorely press'd,
By war without, and fear within,

I come to thee for rest.
4 Be thou my shield and hiding-place;

That shelter'd near thy side, I may my fierce accuser face,

And tell him, “ thou hast died.” 5 Oh! wondrous love! to bleed and die,

To bear the cross and shame, That guilty sinners, such as I, Might plead thy gracious name.

(C. X.)

HYMN 134. 1 PRAY'R is the soul's sincere desire,

Utter'd or unexpress'd; The motion of a hidden fire,

That trembles in the breast.
2 Pray'r is the burden of a sigh,

The falling of a tear;
The upward glancing of an eye,

When none but God is near.
3 Pray’r is the simplest form of speech

That infant lips can try;
Pray'r, the sublimest strains that reach

The majesty on high.
4 Pray’r is the Christian's vital breath,

The Christian's native air,
The watch-word at the gates of death;

He enters heav'n with pray’r.
5 Pray’r is the contrite sinner's voice,

Returning from his ways;

While angels in their songs rejoice,

And cry, “Behold, he prays !" 6 In pray'r, on earth, the saints are one;

They're one in word and mind; When with the Father and the Son,

Sweet fellowship they find.
7 0 thou, by whom we come to God,

The life, the truth, the way,
The path of pray'r thyself hast trod;

Lord, teach us how to pray!


HYMN 135.

(L 1 O THOU that hear'st when sinners cry,

Though all my crimes before thee lie,
Behold them not with angry look,

But blot their mem'ry from thy book. 2 Create my nature pure within,

And form my soul averse to sin:
Let thy good Spirit ne'er depart,

Nor hide thy presence from my heart. 3 I cannot live without thy light,

Cast out and banish'd from thy sight:
Thy holy joys, my God, restore,
And guard me that I fall no more.
4 Though I have griev'd thy Spirit, Lord,

Thy help and comfort still afford;
And let a wretch come near thy throne,

To plead the merits of thy Son.
5 A broken heart, my God, my King,

Is all the sacrifice I bring;
The God of grace will ne'er despise

A broken heart for sacrifice.
6 My soul lies humbled in the dust,

And owns thy dreadful sentence just;
Look down, O Lord, with pitying eye,
And save the soul condemn'd to die.
7 Then will I teach the world thy ways;

Sinners shall learn thy sov'reign grace;
I'll lead them to my Saviour's blood,

And they shall praise a pard’ning God. 8 O may thy love inspire my tongue,

Salvation shall be all my song:
And all my pow'rs shall join to bless
The Lord, my strength and righteousness.

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