4 Thine, Lord, is wisdom, thine alone: Justice and truth before thee stand: Yet nearer to thy sacred throne

Mercy withholds thy lifted hand.

5 Each evening shews thy tender love,
Each rising morn thy plenteous grace;
Reluctant wrath does slowly move,
Thy willing mercy flies apace.

6 To thy benign, indulgent care,

1

Father, this light, this breath we owe;
And all we have, and all we are,
From thee, great source of being, flow.

PAR

HYMN DLXXXII,

The same.

PART IV.

J. WESLEY,

DARENT of good, thy bounteous hand
Incessant blessings down distils;

And all in air, or sea, or land,

With plenteous food and gladness fills.
2 All things in thee live, move, and are,
Thy power infus'd doth all sustain;
Ev'n those thy daily favours share,
Who thankless spurn thy easy reign.
3 Thy sun, thou bid'st, his genial ray
Álike on all impartial pour;

On all who hate, or bless thy sway
Thou bid'st descend the fruitful shower.

4 And, when thy foes, who scorn'd thy might, Shall find thee a consuming fire,

How sweet the joys, the crown how bright
Of those, who to thy love aspire !

5 All creatures praise the eternal name!
Ye hosts that to his court belong,
Cherubic choirs, seraphic flames,
Awake the everlasting song!

6 Thrice holy! thine the kingdom is,
The power, Omnipotent! is thine!
And when created nature dies,
Thy never-ceasing glories shine!

t

HYMN DLXXXIII.

The Refuge.

C. WESLEY, (supposed.)

1 JESUS, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly,

While the raging billows roll,
While the tempest still is high!
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide,

O receive my soul at last!

2 Other refuge have I none,

Hangs my helpless soul on thee;
Leave, ah! leave me not alone,
Still support and comfort me;

All my trust on thee is stay'd
All my help from thee I bring;
Cover my defenceless head,

J

With the shadow of thy wing.

3 Thou, O Christ, art all I want;
Every good in thee I find:
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,
Heal the sick, and lead the blind;
Just and holy is thy name,

I am all unrighteousness:
Vile, and full of sin, I am,

Thou art full of truth and grace.
4 Plenteous grace with thee is found,
Grace to pardon all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound;
Make and keep me pure within:
Thou of life the Fountain art,
Freely let me take of thee;
Spring thou up within my heart,
Rise to all eternity!

ROSCOMMON.

HYMN DLXXXIV.

The Creator praised. Ps. cxlviii. 1, &c.

ROSCOMMON.

10 AZURE vaults! O crystal sky!

The world's transparent canopy!

Break your long silence, and let mortals know,
With what contempt you look on things below.

O Light, thou fairest first of things, From whom all joy, all beauty springs; O praise the Almighty ruler of the globe, Who useth thee for his imperial robe.

3 Great eye of all, whose glorious ray Rules the bright empire of the day;

O praise his name, without whose purer light, Thou hadst been hid in an abyss of night. 4 Ye moon and planets, who dispense, By God's command, your influence; Resign to him, as your Creator due, That homage which man's folly pays to you. 5 Ye mists and vapours, hail and snow, And ye who through the concave blow; Swift executors of his holy word,

6

Whirlwinds and tempests! praise th' Almighty Lord.

Exalt, O Jacob's sacred race,

The God of gods, the God of grace;

Who will above the stars your empire raise, And with his glory recompense your praise.

1 THE

HYMN DLXXXV.

The Day of Judgment.

ROSCOMMON.

HE last loud trumpet's wondrous sound Shall through the rending tombs rebound, And wake the nations under ground.

2 Nature and death shall with surprise, Behold the pale offender rise,

And view the Judge with conscious eyes.

3 Then shall, with universal dread, The sacred, mystic book be read, To try the living and the dead.

4 The Judge ascends his awful throne:
He makes each secret sin be known,
And all with shame confess their own,

5 0 then! what interest shall I make,
To save my last important stake,
When the most just have cause to quake?
6 Thou mighty, formidable King,
Thou mercy's unexhausted spring,
Some comfortable pity bring!

7 Forget not what my ransom cost,
Nor let my dear-bought soul be lost
In storms of guilty terror tost.

HYMN DLXXXVI.

For Mercy.

ᏢᎪᎡᎢ II.

ROSCOMMON.

1NHOU who for me didst feel such pain, Whose precious blood the cross did stain

Let not those agonies be vain;