Of all the joys we mortals know,

Inscrib'd on all the grove,

That heav'n itself came down and bled To win a mortal's love.

HYMN 39. Long Metre.

A Preparatory Thought for the Lord's Supper.

1

WHAT heav'nly Man, or lovely God, Comes marching downward from the skies, Array'd in garments roll'd in blood, With joy and pity in his eyes?

2

The Lord! the Saviour! yes, 'tis he, I know him by the smiles be wears; Dear glorious man that dy'd for me, Drench'd deep in agonies and tears!

3

Lo, he reveals his shining breast; I own those wounds, and I adore: Lo, he prepares a royal feast,

Love, the best blessing here below, And nearest image of the blest.

8

In God's own arms he left the breath
That God's own Spirit gave;
His was the noblest road to death,
And his the sweetest grave.

HYMN 43. Common Metre.

Longing for his Return.

1

O'TWAS a mournful parting day!
"Farewell, my spouse," he said;
How tedious, Lord, is thy delay!
How long my love hath stay'd!
2

Farewell: at once he left the ground,
And climb'd his Father's sky:
Lord, I would tempt thy chariot down,
Or leap to thee on high.

3

Round the creation wild I rove,

And search the globe in vain;

2

My passions hold a pleasing reign,
While love inspires my breast,
Love, the divinest of the train,
The sov'reign of the rest.
3

This is the grace must live and sing,
When faith and hope shall cease,
Must sound from ev'ry joyful string
Through the sweet groves of bliss.

4

Let life immortal seize my clay;

Let love refine my blood: Her flames can bear my soul away, Can bring me near my God.

5

Swift I ascend the heav'nly place,
And hasten to my home,
I leap to meet thy kind embrace,
I come, O Lord, I come.

6

Sink down, ye separating hills,

Let guilt and death remove,

Till thou return again.

4

My passions fly to seek their King,

And send their groans abroad,

They beat the air with heavy wing, And mourn an absent God.

5

And death must yield to love.

HYMN 45. Long Metre.

Come, Lord Jesus.

1.

My soul dissolves away;