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Then fhall, with univerfal dread,
The facred myftic book be read,
To try the living and the dead.

The judge afcends his awful throne,
He makes each fecret fin be known,
And all with fhame confefs their own.
Oh, then what intereft fhall I make,
To fave my last important stake,
When the most just have cause to quake!

Thou mighty, formidable King,
Thou mercy's unexhaufted fpring,
Some comfortable pity bring.
Forget not what my ranfom coft,
Nor let my dear-bought foul be loft,
In ftorms of guilty terror toft.


Thou, who for me did't feel fuch pain,
Whofe precious blood the cross did stain
Let not thofe agonies be vain.
Thou, whom avenging powers obey,
Cancel my debt, too great to pay,
Before the fad accounting day.
Surrounded with amazing fears,
Whose load my foul with anguifh bears,
I figh, I weep; accept my tears.

Thou, who wert mov'd with MARY's grief,
And by abfolving of the thief,
Haft given me hope; now give relief.

Reject not my unworthy prayer:
Preferve me from that dangerous fnare,
Which death and gaping hell prepare.
Give my exalted foul a place,
Among thy chofen right-hand race,
The fons of God, and heirs of grace.
From that infatiable abyfs,
Where flames devour, and ferpents hifs,
Promote me to thy feat of blifs.


Proftrate my contrite heart I rend,
My God, my Father, and my Friend,
Do not forfake me in my end.
Well may they curfe their fecond breath,
Who rife to a reviving death:
Thou, great Creator of mankind,
Let guilty man compaffion find!




doth to God

His pow'r and grace fhall be our fong;
His hand hath dealt a deadly blow,
And terror ftrikes the haughty foe.

Praise to the Lord, who bows his ear
Propitious to his people's prayer;
And, tho' deliverance long delay
Answers in his well-chofen day.

O may thy grace our land engage
(Refcu'd from fierce tyrannic rage)
The tribute of its love to bring
To thee, our Saviour, and our King!

Our temples, guarded from the flame,
Shall echo thy triumphant name;
And ev'ry peaceful private home
To thee a temple shall become.

Still be it our fupreme delight,
To walk as in thy honour'd fight:
Still in thy precepts and thy fear
To life's last hour to persevere.


'N vain the dusky night retires,

In vain the morn with purple light
Adorns the eastern sky.

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In vain the gaudy rifing fun,
The wide horizon gilds;
Comes glitt'ring o'er the filver ftreams,
And chears the dewy fields.
In vain, difpenfing vernal fweets,
The morning breezes play;
In vain, the birds with chearful fongs,
Salute the new-born day.

In vain,-unless my Saviour's face
Thefe gloomy clouds controul,
And diffipate the fullen fhades

That prefs my drooping foul.
Oh! vifit then thy fervant, Lord,

With favour from on high: Arife, my bright, immortal fun,

And all these fhades will die.
When, when fhall I behold thy face,
All radiant and ferene,

Without those envious dufky clouds
That make a veil between?

When shall that long-expected day
Of facred vifion be,

When my impatient foul fhall make
A near approach to thee?

Are Row


By Bishop KENN, Author of the Morning and Evening


Y God, how I from fleep awake, The fole poffeffion of me take; From midnight terrors me fecure,


And guard my heart from thoughts impure.

Bleft angels, while we filent lye,
You hallelujahs fing on high:
You joyful hymn the Ever-Bleft;
Before the throne, and never rest.
I with your choir celestial join,
In off ring up a hymn divine:
With you in heaven I hope to dwell,
And bid the night and world farewell.


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My foul, when I shake off this dust,
Lord, in thy arms I will entrust :
O make me thy peculiar care,
Some manfion for my foul prepare.

Give me a place at thy faint's feet,
Or fome fall'n angel's vacant feat :
I'll ftrive to fing as loud as they
Who fit above in brighter day.
O may I always ready ftand,
With my lamp burning in my hand :
May I in fight of heaven rejoice,
Whene'er I hear the Bridegroom's voice.
All praise to thee, in light array'd,
Who light thy dwelling place haft made:
A boundless ocean of bright beams,
From thy all-glorious God-head ftreams.
The fun, in its meridian height,
Is very darkness in thy fight:
My foul, O lighten and inflame,
With thought and love of thy great name.
Blefs'd Jefu thou on heav'n intent,
Whole nights haft in devotion spent ;
But I, frail creature, foon am tir'd,
And all my zeal is foon expir'd.
My foul, how canft thou weary grow
Of antedating bliss below,
In facred hymns and heav'nly love,
Which will eternal be above?

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Shine on me, Lord, new life impart,
Fresh ardours kindle in my heart:
One ray of thy all-quick'ning light,
Difpels the floth and clouds of night.
Lord, left the tempter me surprise,
Watch over thine own facrifice ;
All loofe, all idle thoughts caft out,
And make my very dreams devout.
Praise God, from whom all bleffings flow,
Praise him, all creatures here below:
Praise him above ye heav'nly hoft:
Praife Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.



VERSES for the Ufe of the Sick.


MY God, with grateful heart I'll raise

A daily altar to praise ; Thy friendly hand my courfe directs, Thy watchful eye my bed protects.

When dangers, woes, or death are nigh,
Paft mercies teach me where to fly;
The fame Almighty arm can aid,
Now ficknefs grieves, and pains invade.
To all the various helps of art,
Kindly thy healing Pow'r impart ;
BETHESDA's bath refus'd to fave,
Unless an angel blefs'd the wave.
All med'cines act by thy decree,
Receive commiffion all from THEE :
And not a plant which spreads the plains,
But teems with health when heaven ordains.
Clay and Siloam's + Pool we find,
At heav'ns command restor'd the blind;
Hence Jordan's I waters once were seen
To wash a Syrian leper clean.
But grant me nobler favours fill,
Grant me to know and do thy will
Purge my foul foul from every stain,
And fave me from eternal pain.
Can fuch a wretch for pardon fue!
My crimes, my crimes arife in view,
Arreft my trembling tongue in prayer,
And pour the horrors of despair.
But, oh! regard my contrite fighs,
My tortur'd breaft, my ftreaming eyes;
To me thy boundless love extend,
My God, my Father, and my Friend!
Thefe lovely names I ne'er could plead,
Had not thy fon vouchfaf'd to bleed;
His blood procures for Adam's race
Admittance to the throne of grace.

See John v. 4. + John ix. 7.

‡ 1 Kings v. 10.

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