Glory to GoD on High! "And heav'nly Peace on Earth. "Good-will to Men, to Angels Joy, "At our Redeemer's Birth."
IV. Referred to the fecond Pfalm.
V. Submiffion to Afflictive Providences, Job i. 21.
TAKED as from the Earth we came,
And crept to Life at firft;
We to the Earth return again,
And mingle with our Duft.
The dear Delights we here enjoy,
And fondly call our own,
Are but fhort Favours borrow'd now,
To be repaid anon.
3 'Tis God that lifts our Comforts high,
Or finks them in the Grave:'
He gives, and (bteffed be his Name!)
He takes but what he gave.he
4 Peace, all our angry Paffions then!
Let each rebellious Sigh
Be filent at his fov'reign Will,
And ev'ry Murmur die,
5 If fmiling Mercy crown our Lives,
Its Praifes fhall be fpread;
And we'll adore the Juftice too
That ftrikes our Comforts dead.
Let the old Heathens tune their Songs
Let the Seventh Angel found on High
Let the whole Race of Creatures lie
Let the wild Leopards of the Wood
Let them neglect thy Glory, Lord
Let us adore th' eternal Word
Life and immortal Joys are given
Life is the Time to ferve the Lord
Lift up your Eyes to the heav'nly Seats 6 37
Like Sheep we went aftray
Lo the deftroying Angel flies
Lo the young Tribes of Adam rife
Lo what a glorious Sight appears
Lo what an entertaining Sight
Long have I fat beneath the Sound,
Look, gracious God, how num'rous they a
Lord, at thy Temple we appear
Lord, how divine thy Comforts are
Lord, how fecure and bless'd are they
Lord, how fecure my Confcience was
Lord, we adore thy bounteous Hand
Lord, we adore thy vaft Designs
Lord, we are blind, we Mortals blind
Lord, we confess our num'rous Faults
Lord, what a feeble Pièce
Lord, what a Heav'n of faving Grace
Lord, what a thoughtless Wreich was I
Lord, what a wretched Land is this
Lord, when my Thoughts with &c.
Loud Hallelujahs to the Lord
C 20
6109 b26
a ifi
a 111
b 16 -a 36 b. 53
MAN has a Soul of vaft Defires
Miftaken Souls that dream of Heav'n
My dear Redeemer and my Lord
My drow fy Pow'rs, why fleep ye fo
My God, how endless is thy Love
My God, my Life, my Love
My God, my Portion and my Love
My God, permit me not to be
My God, the Spring of all
my Joys
My God, what endless Pleasures dwell
My Heart, how dreadful hard it is
My Saviour God, my fovereign Prince
My Soul, come meditate the Day
My Soul forfakes her vain Delight
Thoughts on awful Subjects roll
My Thoughts furmount thefe lower Skies b 162 N
NAKED as from the Earth we came a
Nature with all her Pow'rs fhall fing
Nature with open Volume stands
No, I'll repine at Death no more
No, I fhall envy them no more
No more, my God, I boaft no more
Nor Eye has feen, nor Ear has heard
Not all the Blood of Beafts
Not all the outward Forms on Earth
Not different Food or different Dress
Not from the Duft Affliction
Not the malicious or profane
a 105 3.6142
a. 95€ a. 1,26 a. 83. 6 104
Not to condemn the the Sons of Men
Not to the Terrors of the Lord
Now be the God of Ifrael bleft
Now by the Bowels of my God
Now for a Tune of lofty Praise
How have our Hearts embrac'd our God c
Now in the Galleries of his Grace
Now in the Heat of youthful Blood
Now let a fpacious World arife
Now let our Pains be all forgot
Now let the Father and the Son
Now let the Lord my Saviour fmile
Now Satan comes with dreadful Roar
Now fhall my inward Joys arife
Now to the Lord a noble Song
Now to the Lord that makes us
Now to the Power of God fupreme
FOR an overcoming Faith
O! if my Soul were form'd for Woe
O the Almighty Lord'
O the Delights the heavn❜ly Joys
Often I leek my Lord by Night
Once more, my Soul, the rifing Day
Our Days, alas! our mortal Days
Our God how firm his Promise stands
Our Sins, alas! how ftrong they be
Our Souls fhall magnify the Lord
Our Spirits join t' adore the Lamb'
PLung
Lung'd-in a Gulph of dark Despair b 79
Praise, everlasting Praise, be paid - b 60
Aife thee, my Soul, fly up, and run 33 Raife your triumphant Songs
Rife, rife my Soul, and leave the Ground b
Aints at your heav'nly Father's Word a 129. Salvation ! O the joyful Sound
See where the great incarnate God
Shall the vile Race of Flefh and Blood - α 82
Shall Wildom cry aloud
Shine mighty God, on Britain fhine
Shout to the Lord, and let our Joys
Sin has a thousand treacherous Arts
Sin like a venemous Difease
Sing to the Lord that built the Skies
Sing to the Lord with joyful Voice
Sing to the Lord ye heav'nly Hofts
Sitting around our Father's Board
So did the Hebrew Prophet raife
So let our Lips and Lives exprefs
So new-born Babes defire the Breaft
Stand up, my Soul, fhake off thy Fears 677
Stoop down, my Thoughts, that ufe to rife b 28
Strait is the Way, the Door is ftrait
Terrible God, that reign'st on High 5** 22
That awful Day will furely come
|