See heav'n's great heir, woman's son !
Behold a manger is his throne !
Nay, see him born to die :
Yours is the guilt, but his the pain:
His are the sorrows, yours the gain :
Then let his praise be high.
Come, mighty King! the grace enhance, (A stable was thy palace once)
Dwell in these hearts of ours: Teach us to praise the Father's love, Till bless'd, transported, fir'd above, We sing with nobler pow'rs.
HYMN 182. L. M.
ALL glorious God, what hymns of praise
Shall our transported voices raise ;
What ardent love and zeal are due,
While heav'n stands open to our view?
Once we were fallen, O how low !
Just on the brink of endless woe ;
When Jesus, from the realms above,
Borne on the wings of boundless love,
Scatter'd the shades of death and night,
And spread around his heav'nly light;
By him, what wond'rous grace is shewn
To souls impov'rish'd and undone !
He shews, beyond these mortal shores,
A bright inheritance, as ours ;
Where saints in light our coming wait,
To share their holy happy state.
O LOVE! what a secret to mortals thou art!
'Tis God's deep eternity, nature and heart :
The witnessing dove confirms this high plan,
And likewise his word and his dealings with man.
The sorrows of Jesus, his torment and pain,
Have left no foundation for doubting again.
O love! how myster'ous and boundless art thou !
Thy date and thy measure unlimited flow :
This Jesus reveals, with evidence strong;
It gladdens my heart, and enlivens my song,
With praise to my Saviour, my Lord, and my God,
Whose love is my glory, as view'd in his blood.
O love! what a gath'ring of souls hast thou made,
All into one fountain, one body, one head,
Where they were preserved thy own, thro' the fall,
The fulness of Jesus, who fills all in all :
Close in her pavilion, the darling, the bride,
Lay hid in her husband, till born from his side.
O love! what a bridegroom of honour and trust !
The fulness of heaven hath marry'd my dust;
He humbled himself to cleave to his wife,
In all her distress, and her sorrows of life;
With her was he number'd amongst the unclean,
Nor yet could he loathe her, nor jar come between.
O love! what a husband thy care did provide !
Descending from glory in search of thy bride;
Her substance conceiv'd, thy body was she,
Incarnate in her, and she then was in thee;
In Mary, the virgin, the twain was made one,
Whence God, our Creator, was born a poor man,
SALVATION!...Oh, the joyful sound!
'Tis pleasure to our ears;
A sov❜reign balm for ev'ry wound,
A cordial for our fears.
Bury'd in sorrow and in sin,
At hell's dark door we lay;
But we arise, by grace divine,
To see a heav'nly day.
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Salvation!...let the echo fly
The spacious earth around;
While all the armies of the sky
Conspire to raise the sound.
HYMN 185. P. M.
"TIS finish'd, the Redeemer said,
And meekly bow'd his dying head;
Whilst we this sentence scan,
Come, sinners, and observe the word,
Behold the conquests of our Lord,
Complete for helpless man.
Finish'd the righteousness of grace,
Finish'd for sinners, pard'ning peace ;
Their mighty debt is paid :
Accusing law cancell'd by blood,
And wrath of an offended God,
In sweet oblivion laid.
Who now shall urge a second claim?
The law no longer can condemn,
Faith a release can shew;
Justice itself a friend appears,
The prison house a whisper hears,
"Loose him, and let him go.".
O unbelief, injurious bar!
Source of tormenting, fruitful fear,
Why dost thou yet reply?
Where'er thy loud objections fall,
""Tis finish'd," still may answer all,
And silence ev'ry cry.
HYMN 168. C. M.
SALVATION, through our dying God,
Is finish'd and complete :
He paid whate'er his people ow'd,
And cancell'd all their debt.
Salvation now shall be my stay,
"A sinner sav'd,” I'll cry ;
Then gladly quit this mortal clay,
For better joys on high.
HYMN 187. L. M. 187
"TIS finish'd, so the Saviour cried, And meekly bow'd his head and died. 'Tis finish'd-yes, the race is run, The battle fought, the vict'ry won.
'Tis finish'd-all that heav'n decreed,
And all the ancient prophets said,
Is now fulfill'd, as was design'd,
In me, the Saviour of mankind.
'Tis finish'd-Aaron now no more Must stain his robes with purple gore;
The sacred veil is rent in twain,
And Jewish rites o more remain.
'Tis finish'd-this my dying groan
Shall sins of ev'ry kind atone :
Millions shall be redeem'd from death,
By this my last expiring breath.
'Tis finish'd-Heaven is reconcil'd,
And all the powers of darkness spoil'd:
Peace, love, and happiness again
Return, and dwell with sinful men.
'Tis finish'd let the joyful sound
Be heard through all the nations round: 'Tis finish'd-let the echo fly
Through heav'n and hell, through earth and sky.
OF Him, who did salvation bring,
Lord, may we ever think and sing!
Arise, ye guilty, he'll forgive;
Arise, ye needy, he'll relieve.
Eternal Lord! Almighty King!
All heav'n doth with thy triumphs ring ;
Thou conquer'st all, beneath, above;
Devils with force, and men with love.
To shame our sins, Christ blush'd in blood,
He clos'd his eyes to shew us God;
Let all the world fall down and know,
That none but God such love could show.
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