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Thou shalt call his name JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins.

Matt. i: 21.

I How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds!
The Christian's soul it cheers;

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

2 It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast:
'Tis manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary, rest.

3 Dear Name! the rock on which I build,
My shield and hiding place,
My never-failing treasury, filled
With boundless stores of grace.

4 Though weak the effort of my heart,
And cold my warmest thought,
Yet, 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.

6 0 Jesus, Shepherd, Father, Friend,
My Prophet, Priest, and King,
My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End!

Accept the praise I bring. Dox. IV.

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Thou shalt call his name JESUS, for he shall save his people from their sins.
Matt. i: 21.

I To the Name of our Salvation
Laud and honor let us pay,
Which for many a generation
Hid in God's foreknowledge lay,
But with holy exultation

We may sing aloud to-day.

2 JESUS is the Name we treasure, Name beyond what words can tell; Name of gladness, Name of pleasure,

Ear and heart delighting well; Name of sweetness passing measure, Saving us from sin and hell,

3 'Tis the Name for adoration,
Name for songs of victory,
Name for holy meditation

4

In our days of misery,
Name for joyful veneration
By the citizens on high.

'Tis the Name that whoso preacheth Speaks like music to the ear; Who in prayer this Name beseecheth

Sweetest comfort findeth near; Who its perfect wisdom reacheth

Heavenly joy possesseth here.

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I Lo, the pilgrim Magi

Leave their royal halls,
And with eager footsteps

Speed to Bethlehem's walls;
As they onward journey,
Faith, which firmly rests
Upon hope unswerving,
Triumphs in their breasts.

2 Oh, what joys ecstatic

Thrilled each heart, from far, When, to guide their footsteps Gleamed that beacon star; O'er that home so holy,

Pouring down its ray, Where the cradled Infant With His mother lay. 3 Costly pomp and pageant Earthly kings array; He, a mightier Monarch, Hath a nobler sway;

Matt. ii: 9.

Straw may be His pallet,
Mean His garb may be,
Yet with power transcendent
He all hearts can free.
4 At His crib they worship,
Prostrate on the floor;
And their God, there present,

In that Babe adore:
Let us to that Infant,

As their followers true,
Hearts with faith o'erflowing
Give, our tribute due ;-

5 Holiest Love presenting,

Gold unto our King;
To the Man pure bodies,
Myrrh-like, chastely bring;
Unto Him, as incense,

Vow and prayer address;
So, with meetest off'rings
Him our God confess.

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