He honour'd all his Father's laws,
Which we have disobey'd:
He bore our sins upon the cross,
And our full ransom paid.

Behold him rising from the grave;
Behold him rais'd on high:
He pleads his merit there to save
Transgressors doom'd to die.

There on a glorious throne he reigns, And by his power divine, Redeems us from the slavish chains Of Satan and of sin.

Thence shall the Lord to judgment come,
And with a sovereign voice
Shall call, and break up every tomb,
While waking saints rejoice.

O may I then with joy appear
Before the Judge's face,

And with the bless'd assembly there,
Sing his redeeming grace.

B

PRAISE FOR MERCIES SPIRITUAL AND TEMPORAL.

WHENE'ER I take my walks abroad
How many poor I see!
What shall I render to my God
For all his gifts to me?

Not more than others I deserve,
Yet God has given me more:
For I have food while others starve,
Or beg from door to door.

How many children in the street
Half naked I behold;

While I am cloth'd from head to feet,
And covered from the cold.

While some poor creatures scarce can tell Where they may lay their head,

I have a home wherein to dwell,
And rest upon my bed.

While others early learn to swear,
And curse, and lie, and steal;
Lord, I am taught thy name to fear,
And do thy holy will.

Are these thy favours day by day

To me above the rest?

Then let me love thee more than they, And try to serve thee best.

SONG V.

LAND.

GREAT God, to thee my voice I raise, To thee my youngest hours belong; I would begin my life with praise, Till growing years improve my song.

'Tis to thy sovereign grace I owe

That I was born on British ground; Where streams of heavenly mercy flow,

And words of sweet salvation sound.

I would not change my native land
For rich Peru with all her gold;
A nobler prize lies in my hand

Than east or western India hold.

How do I pity those that dwell
Where ignorance and darkness reign,
They know no heaven, they fear no hell,
Those endless joys, those endless pains.

Thy glorious promises, O Lord!
Kindle my hopes, and my desire!
While all the preachers of thy word
Warn to escape eternal fire.

Thy praise shall still employ my breath, Since thou hast mark'd my way to

heaven;

PRAISE FOR THE GOSPEL.

LORD, I ascribe it to thy grace,

And not to chance as others do, That I was born of Christian race, And not a Heathen or a Jew.

What would the ancient Jewish kings And Jewish prophets once have given, Could they have heard those glorious things,

Which Christ reveal'd and brought from heaven!

How glad the heathens would have been, That worshipp'd idols, wood, and

stone,