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8 May each blest minute, as it flies, Increase thy praise, improve our joys, 'Till we are rais'd to sing thy name At the great supper of the Lamb!

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166.

Weeping Mary. [Tune, Weeping Mary.

MARY

ARY to her Saviour's tomb

Hasted at the early dawn;

Spice she brought, and sweet perfume,
But the Lord she lov'd was gone!
For a while she weeping stood,
Struck with sorrow and surprise,
Shedding tears, a plenteous flood,
For her heart supplied her eyes.

2 Jesus, who is always near,

Tho' too often unperceiv'd,
Came his drooping child to cheer,
Kindly asking why she griev'd.
Tho' at first she knew him not,
When he call'd her by her name,
Then her griefs were all forgot,
For she found he was the same.

3 Grief and sighing quickly fled,

When she heard his welcome voice;
Just before she thought him dead,
Now he bids her heart rejoice.
What a change his word can make,
Turning darkness into day!
You who weep for Jesus' sake,

He will wipe your tears away.

4 He who came to comfort her,
When she thought her all was lost,
your relief appear,

Will for

Though you now are tempest-toss'd;
On his word your burden cast,

On his love your thoughts employ;
Weeping for a while may last,
But the morning brings thee joy!

167.

Is this thy kindness to thy Friend?

L.M.

1 POOR, weak, and worthless, though I am,
I have a rich almighty Friend;
Jesus, the Saviour, is his name;
He freely loves and without end.

2 He ransom'd me from hell with blood,
And by his pow'r my foes controll'd;
He found me wand'ring far from God,
And brought me to his chosen fold.
3 He cheers my heart, my want supplies,
And says that I shall shortly be
Enthron'd with him above the skies;
Oh what a friend is Christ to me!

4 But ah! my inmost spirit mourns,
And well my eyes with tears may swim,
To think of my perverse returns;
I've been a faithless friend to him!

5 Often my gracious Friend I grieve,
Neglect, distrust, and disobey;
And often Satan's lies believe
Sooner than all my Friend can say.

6 He bids me always freely come,
And promises whate'er I ask;

But I am straiten'd, cold, and dumb,
And count my privilege a task.

7 Before the world, that hates his cause,
My treach'rous heart has throbb'd with shame;
Loath to forego the world's applause,
I hardly dare avow his name.

8 Sure, were I not most vile and base,
I could not thus my Friend requite;
And were not he the God of grace,
He'd frown, and spurn me from his sight.

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Th' Almighty's equal thou;
Thou the Father's only Son,
Pleas'd he ever is in thee;
Just and holy thou alone,

Full of truth and grace for me!

2 He left his throne above,
Disrob'd of all but love,

Whom the heavens cannot contain;
God vouchsaf'd in flesh t'appear;

Lord of glory, Son of man,

Poor, and vile, and abject here!

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Thou my pain and curse has took,
All my sins were laid on thee;
Man of griefs, to thee I look,
Draw me, Saviour, after thee!
4 High on thy Father's throne,
O look with pity down!
Save, O save, attend my call;
Captive lead captivity!

King of glory, Lord of all,

Christ, be Lord and King to me!

5 Thy pow'r I pant to prove,
Rooted and fix'd in love;
Make me, by thy Spirit's light,

Wise to fathom things divine;

What the length, and breadth, and height,

What the depth of love like thine!

169.

Cast down, yet hoping in God.

[Tune, Expostulation.

My soul, what means this sadness?
Wherefore art thou thus cast down?
Let thy griefs be turn'd to gladness,
Bid thy restless fears be gone:
Look to Jesus,

And rejoice in his dear name!

2 What tho' Satan's strong temptations Vex and teaze thee day by day,

And thy sinful inclinations

Often fill thee with dismay,

Thou shalt conquer

Thro' the Lamb's redeeming blood!

3 Tho' ten thousand ills beset thee,
From without and from within;
Jesus saith he'll ne'er forget thee,
But will save from hell and sin;
He is faithful

To perform his gracious word.

4 Tho' distresses now attend thee,

And thou tread'st the thorny road,
His right hand shall still defend thee,
Soon he'll bring thee home to God:
Therefore praise him,

Praise the great Redeemer's name!

5 O that I could now adore him

Like the heav'nly host above,
Who for ever bow before him,
And unceasing sing his love!
Happy songsters,

When shall I your chorus join?

170.

Troubled, but making God a Refuge. c.M.

[Tune, Zion's Refuge

1 DEAR refuge of my weary soul,

On thee, when sorrows rise,

On thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies.

2 To thee I tell each rising grief,
For thou alone canst heal;

Thy word can bring a sweet relief
For every pain I feel.

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