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Renew it boldly every day,
And help divine implore.

3 Ne'er think the vict'ry won,
Nor once at ease sit down:
Thy arduous work will not be done,
Till thou hast got thy crown.

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HYMN 260.

ALS

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LAS, what hourly dangers rise!
What snares beset my way!
To heav'n, Oh, let me lift my eyes,
And hourly watch and pray.

2O Lord, increase my faith and hope,
When foes and fears prevail;
And bear my fainting spirit up,
Or soon my strength will fail.
3 Oh, keep me in thy heav'nly way,
And bid the tempter flee;
And let me never, never stray
From happiness and thee.

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SAVIOUR, we wait the day,

The awful day unknown, To quit our house, this tent of clay, And lay our bodies down.

2 Come, and our souls prepare For such a solemn day;

And fill us now with watchful care,
And stir us up to pray-

3 Oh, may we all ensure
A lot among the blest;
And watch a moment to secure
An everlasting rest.

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HYMN 262. L. M.

WATTS.

Crucifixion to the world. Gal. vi. 14.

W

HEN I survey the wond'rous cross,
On which the Prince of glory dy'd,

My richest gain I count but loss,
And, mourning, weep o'er all my pride.
2 Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ, my God;
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.

3 See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet;
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?
4 Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love, so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

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HYMN 263. L. M.

WHEN

NEWTON.

I the blest Redeemer see,

All bleeding on th' accursed tree:

Satan and sin no more can move,
For I am all transformed to love.

2 his thorns and nails pierce thro' my heart, In ev'ry groan I bear a part;

I view his wounds with streaming eyes;
But see! he bows his head and dies!

3 Come, sinners, view the Lamb of God,
Wounded and dead, and bath'd in blood;
Behold his side, and venture near-
The spring of endless life is here.

4 Here I forget my cares and pains;
I drink, yet still my thirst remains;
Only the fountain head above
Can satisfy the thirst of love.

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HYMN 264. C. M.

H

NEWTON,

Christ precious. 1 Pet. ii. 7.

OW sweet the name of JESUS sounds

In a believer's ear!

It soothes his sorrows heals his wounds, And drives away his fear.

2 It makes the wounded spirit whole, And calms the troubled breast;

'Tis manna to the hungry soul, And to the weary, rest.

3 By him, my pray'rs acceptance gain,

Although with sin defil'd;

Satan accuses me in vain,
And I am own'd a child.

4 Weak is the effort of my heart,
And cold my warmest thought;
But when I see thee as thou art,
I'll praise thee as I ought.

5 Till then, I would thy love proclaim,
With every fleeting breath;
And may the music of thy name
Refresh my soul in death.

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HYMN 265. 8,7.

S

ROBINSON.

Sitting at Jesus' feet.

blessing,

WEET the moments, rich in
Which before the cross I spend ;
Life, and health, and peace possessing,
From the sinner's dying Friend:
Love and grief my heart dividing,
With my tears his feet I'll bathe;
Constant still in faith abiding,
Life deriving from his death.

2 Truly blessed is this station-
Low before his cross I'll lie;
While I see divine compassion
Floating in his languid eye;
Here I'll sit-forever viewing
Mercy streaming in his blood :
Precious drops, my soul bedewing,
Plead and claim my peace with God.

HYMN 266.

L. M.

FAWCETT.

The Christian Pilgrim. Deut. viii. 2.

T

1HRO' this wide wilderness I roamı, Far distant from my blissful home;

My earthly joys are from me torn,
And oft an absent God I mourn.

2 My soul with various tempests toss'd,
Her fairest hopes and projects cross'd,
Sees ev'ry day new straits attend,
And wonders where the scene will end.

3 Is this, dear Lord, that thorny road,
Which leads us to the mount of God?-
Are these the toils thy people know,
While in the wilderness below ?

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4 'Tis even so-thy faithful love
Doth all thy children's graces prove;
'Tis thus our pride and self must fall,
That Jesus may be all in all.

C

HYMN 267. с. м.

Heb. xii. 22-24.

HILDREN of God, who, trav'ling slow,
Your pilgrim path pursue,

In strength, and weakness, joy and wo,
To God's high calling true;-

2 Why move ye thus with ling'ring tread, A doubtful, mournful band? Why faintly hangs the drooping head?

Why fails the feeble hand?

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