of sorn

X DE And upwards to the mercy seat

of sor XIDE.

No tears but those which thou hast shed;
No blood, but thou hast spilt.

4 Think of thy sorrows, dearest Lord!
And all my sins forgive:

Justice will well approve the word
That bids the sinner live.

HYMN 43. P. M. 7.

Pleading for Mercy.

NOV'REIGN Ruler, Lord of all,
Prostrate at thy feet I fall:
Hear, oh, hear my ardent cry,
Frown not, lest I faint and die.
2 Vilest of the sons of men,
Worst of rebels I have been!
Oft abus'd thee to thy face,
Trampled on thy richest grace!
3 Justly might thy vengeful dart
Pierce this bleeding broken heart;
Justly might thy kindled ire
Blast me in eternal fire.

4 But with thee there's mercy found,
Balm to heal my every wound;
Soothe, oh, soothe the troubled breast,
Give the weary wanderer rest.

1

Let me live a life of faith,
Let me die thy people's death.

HYMN 46. P. M. 8, 7. Suppliant Address to the Saviour. 1 TESUS, full of all compassion,

J

Hear thy humble suppliant's cry;
Let me know thy great salvation,
See, I languish, faint, and die."
2 Guilty, but with heart relenting,
Overwhelm'd with helpless grief-
Prostrate at thy feet repenting
Send, O send me quick relief!

3 Whither should a wretch be flying,
But to him who comfort gives?
Whither, from the dread of dying,
But to him who ever lives?

4 Sav'd-the deed shall spread new glory
Through the shining realms above;
Angels sing the pleasing story,
All enraptur'd with thy love.

1

HYMN 47. S. M.

The convinced and seeking Sinner.
"Y former hopes are fled,
My terror now begins;

MY

I feel, alas! that I am dead
In trespasses and sins.

2 Ah, whither shall I fly?

I hear the thunder roar;
The law proclaims destruction nigh,
And vengeance at the door.

3 When I review my ways,
I dread impending doom;

D

But sure, a friendly whisper says, "Flee from the wrath to come."

4 I see, or think I see,

A glimmering from afar;

A beam of day that shines for me,
To save me from despair.

5 Forerunner of the sun,

It marks the Pilgrim's way;
it while I run,

I'll gaze upon

And watch the rising day.

HYMN 48. C. M.

Seeking Pardon.

TOW sad our state by nature is!
Our sin, how deep it stains!

And Satan binds our captive minds
Fast in his slavish chains.

2 But there's a voice of sov'reign grace
Sounds from the sacred word;
Ho! ye despairing sinners come!
And trust upon the Lord.

3 My soul obeys th' Almighty call,
And runs to this relief;

I would believe thy promise, Lord,
O! help mine unbelief.

4 To the dear fountain of thy blood,
Incarnate God, I fly;

Here let me wash my spotted soul
From crimes of deepest dye.

Stretch out thine arm, victorious king,
My reigning sins subdue;

Drive the old dragon from his seat,
With all his hellish crew.