Plenteous grace with thee is found-
Grace to pardon all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound;
Let me feel them flow within.
Thou of life the fountain art;
Freely let me take of thee;
Spring thou up within my heart-
Rise to all eternity!

HYMN 76. P. M.

1 HAIL, everlasting spring!
Celestial fountain, hail!
Thy streams salvation bring,
The waters never fail :
Still they endure,
And still they flow,
For all our wo

A sovereign cure.

2 Blest be his wounded side,
And blest his bleeding heart,
Who all in anguish died,
Such favours to impart :
His sacred blood

Shall make us clean,
From every sin,

And fit for God.

3 To that dear source of love
Our souls this day would come;
And thither from above,
Lord, call the nations home:
The Jew and Greek,

With rapturous songs

On all their tongues,
Thy praise may speak.

HYMN 77. S. M.

1 COME, Holy Spirit, come,
Let thy bright beams arise;
Dispel the darkness from our minds.
And open all our eyes.

2 Convince us of our sin,
Then lead to Jesus' blood :
And to our wondering view reveal
The secret love of God.

3 Revive our drooping faith,

Our doubts and fears remove; And kindle in our breasts the flame Of never-dying love.

HYMN 78. P. M.

1 ALAS! this adamantine heart, This icy rock within!

Alas! these active powers congeal'd
By the deceits of sin.

2 Can'st thou my soul, to heaven allied,
A native of the sky,
Thus in ignoble fetters bound,
A willing captive lie?

3 What! cannot all the melting charms
Of a Redeemer's love,
Nor thunderbolts of wrath divine
This flinty bosom move?

4 O let this rock asunder break
Before thy awful face;

Or rather melt

away beneath

Thy milder beams of grace.

HYMN 79. C. M.

1 IN heaven the rapt'rous song began,
And sweet seraphic fire

Thro' all the shining legions ran,
And strung and tun'd the lyre.
2 Swift thro' the vast expanse it flew,
And loud the echo roll'd;

The theme, the song, the joy was new,
"Twas more than heaven could hold.
3 Down thro' the portals of the sky
The impetuous torrent ran;
And angels flew with eager joy
To bear the news to man.

4 Hark! the cherubic armies shout, And glory leads the song ;

Good will and peace are heard throughout The harmonious, heavenly throng.

5 With joy the chorus we'll repeat,

66

Glory to God on high;

"Good will and peace are now complete, "Jesus was born to die."

HYMN 80. S. M.

1 AWAKE, and sing the song

Of Moses and the Lamb;

Wake, every heart and every tongue,

To praise the Saviour's name.

2 Sing of his dying love,

Sing of his rising pow'r ;

Sing how he intercedes above,
For those whose sins he bore.
3 Sing till we feel our hearts

Ascending with our tongues;
Sing till the love of sin departs,
And grace inspires our songs.

HYMN 81. C. M.

1 THE Saviour! O what endless charms
Dwell in the blissful sound!
Its influence ev'ry fear disarms;
And spreads sweet comfort round.
2 Here pardon, life, and joys divine,
In rich effusion flow,

For guilty rebels lost in sin,
And doom'd to endless wo.

3 The Almighty former of the skies
Stoop'd to our vile abode ;

While angels view'd with wond'ring eyes,
And hail'd the incarnate God.

4 O the rich depths of love divine,
Of bliss, a boundless store!

Dear Saviour, let me call thee mine;
I cannot wish for more.

5 On thee alone my hope relies,
Beneath thy cross I fall;

My Lord, my life, my sacrifice,
My Saviour, and my all.

HYMN 82. P. M.

1 COME, ye sinners, poor and wretched, Weak and wounded, sick and sore!

Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity join'd with power:
He is able,

He is willing: doubt no more!

2 Come, ye thirsty, come, and welcome!
God's free bounty glorify:

True belief, and true repentance,
Every grace that brings us nigh-

Without money

Come to Jesus Christ, and buy.

3 Let not conscience make you linger,
Nor of fitness fondly dream;

All the fitness he requireth,
Is to feel your need of him:
This he gives you;

'Tis the Spirit's rising beam.
4 Come, ye weary, heavy laden,

Lost and ruin'd by the fall!
If you tarry till you're better,
You will never come at all:
Not the righteous,—
Sinners, Jesus came to call.
5 Agonizing in the garden,

Lo! your Maker prostrate lies!
On the bloody tree behold him,
Hear him cry before he dies,
"It is finish'd!"

Sinners, will not this suffice?

1 SALVATION! O melodious sound

To wretched dying men!