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3 He comes, the pris'ners to release,
In Satan's bondage held;
The iron fetters yield.
To clear the mental ray ;
To pour celestial day.
The bleeding soul to cure,
T'enrich the humble poor.
Thy welcome shall proclaim; And heav'n's eternal arches ring With thy beloved name. HYMN 42.
(IIL 3) 1 HAIL, thou long expected Jesus,
Born to set thy people free! From our sins and fears release us,
Let us find our rest in thee. 2 Israel's strength and consolation,
Hope of all the saints, thou art; Long desir'd of every nation,
Joy of every waiting heart. 3 Born thy people to deliver,
Born a child, yet God our King, Born to reign in us for ever,
Now thy gracious kingdom bring. 4 By thine own eternal Spirit
Rule in all our hearts alone;
(C. M.) Luke ii. 8–15. 1 WHILE shepherds watch'd their flocks by night,
All seated on the ground,
And glory shone around.
Had seiz'd their troubled mind;
3" To you, in David's town, this day
" Is born, of David's line, “ The Saviour, who is Christ the Lord,
" And this shall be the sign:
“ To human view display'd,
* And in a manger laid.”
Appear'd a shining throng
Address’d their joyful song: 6 All glory be to God on high,
" And to the earth be peace; “ Good will, henceforth, from heav'n to men, Begin and never cease." HYMN 44.
(C. M.) 1 WHILE angels thus, O Lord, rejoice,
Shall men no anthem raise?
When we forget to praise !
And join the heav'nly throng;
As we, to wake their song.
And peace on earth is giv'n;
With news of joy from heav'n!
His rising beams adorn;
“ The promis'd child is burn!" 5 Glory to God, in highest strains,
By highest worlds is paid ;
And by our lives display'd;
Where now our Saviour reigns ;
(IIL 1.) 1 HARK! the herald angels sing
Glory to the new-born King;
2 Joyful all ye nations rise,
Join the triumphs of the skies;
Christ is born in Bethlehem!
Christ, the everlasting Lord,
Offspring of the virgin's womb! 4 Veil'd in flesh the Godhead see!
Hail th' incarnate Deity,
Jesus, now Emanuel !
Light and life to all he brings;
Jerusalem triumphs, Messiah is King. 1 Zion! the marvellous story be telling,
The Son of the Highest, how lowly his birth! The brightest archangel in glory excelling,
He stoops to redeem thee, he reigns upon earth. Chorus. Shout the glad tidings, exultingly sing;
Jerusalem triumphs, Messiah is King. 2 Tell how he cometh, from nation to nation,
The heart-cheering news let the earth echo round; How free to the faithful he offers salvation,
How his people with joy everlasting are crown'd. Chorus. Shout the glad tidings, exultingly sing;
Jerusalim triumphs, Messiah is King. 3 Mortals! your homage be gratefully bringing,
And sweet let the gladsome hosanna arise; Ye angels! the full hallelujah be singing,
One chorus resound through the earth and the skies: Chorus. Shout the glad tidings, exultingly sing,
Jerusalem triumphs, Messiah is King.
Isaiah ix. 2–7. 1 THE race that long in darkness pin'd
Have seen a glorious light; The people now behold the dawn, - Who dwelt in death and night.
2 To hail thy rising Sun of life!
The gath’ring nations come, Joyous as when the reapers bear
Their harvest treasures home. 3 For thou our burden hast remov'd;
Th’ oppressor's reign is broke; Thy fiery conflict with the foe
Has burst his cruel yoke.
To us the Son is giv'n;
And all the hosts of heav'n.
For evermore ador'd;
The mighty God, and Lord.
His reign no end shall know;
END OF THE YEAR.
(C. M.) 1 TIME hastens on; ye longing saints,
Now raise your voices high; And magnify that sov’reign love
Which shows salvation nigh. 2 As time departs salvation comes,
Each moment brings it near: Then welcome each declining day;
Welcome each closing year.
Not many mornings rise,
(C. M.) St. Luke xiij. 6–9. 1 SEF, in the vineyard of the Lord,
A barren fig-tree stands ;
Though planted by His hands.
And still no fruit is found;
Why cumbers it the ground ?"
3 But lo! the gracious Saviour pleads;
“ The barren fig-tree spare, “ Another year in mercy wait,
“ It yet may bloom and bear: 4 “ But if my culture prove in vain,
And still no fruit be found, “ I plead no more; destroy the tree,
“And root it from thy ground."
(L. M.) 1 THE God of life, whose constant care
With blessings crowns each op'ning year,
And wakes anew mine annual song. 2 How many precious souls are fled
To the vast regions of the dead,
Through his last yearly period run! 3 We yet survive; but who can say,
“ Or through this year, or month, or day, “ I shall retain this vital breath,
“ Thus far, at least, in league with death ?” 4 That breath is thine, eternal God;
'Tis thine to fix my soul's abode; It holds its life from thee alone,
On earth, or in the world unknown. 5 To thee our spirits we resign,
Make them and own them still as thine;
Though death should blast the rising year. 6 Thy children panting to be gone,
May bid the tide of time roll on,
Where years and death are known no more.
, shall reach that place; No groans, to mingle with the songs
Resounding from immortal tongues: 8 No more alarms from ghostly foes;
No cares to break the long repose ;