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5 He keeps the Father's book of life;
There all their names are found;
The hypocrite in vain shall strive
To tread the heav'nly ground.

HYMN CLV. 1 Cor. III. 21. (L. M.) 1 How vast the treasure we possess! How rich thy bounty, King of grace! This world is ours, and worlds to come; Earth is our lodge, and heav'n our home. 2 All things are ours, the gifts of God; The purchase of a Saviour's blood; While the good Spirit shews us how To use, and to improve them too. 3 If peace and plenty crown my days, They help me, Lord, to speak thy praise: If bread of sorrows be my food,

Those sorrows work my lasting good.
blest estate
For all the world calls good or great;
And while my faith can keep her hold,
I envy not the sinner's gold.

4 I would not change my

5 Father, I wait thy daily will:

Thou shalt divide my portion still:

Grant me on earth what seems thee best,
Till death and heav'n reveal the rest.

HYMN CLVI. 1 Cor. xv. 55—7. (c. M.)

1 OH for an overcoming faith,

To cheer my dying hours;

To triumph o'er the monster death,
And all his frightful powers!

2 Joyful with all the strength I have,
My quiv'ring lips should sing,

"Where is thy boasted vict'ry, Grave? "And where the monster's sting?"

3 If sin be pardon'd, I'm secure; Death has no sting beside:

The law gives sin its damning power; But Christ, my ransom, died.

4 Now to the God of victory Immortal thanks be paid,

Who makes us conqu'rors while we die, Through Christ, our living head!

HYMN CLVII. 1 Cor. XVI. 13. (C. M.)

1 ARE we the soldiers of the cross,
The foll'wers of the Lamb?
And shall we fear to own his cause,
Or blush to speak his name?

2 Now we must fight, if we would reign;
Increase our courage, Lord!
We'll bear the toil, endure the pain,
Supported by thy word.

3 Suppress our shame, subdue our fear, Arm us with heav'nly zeal;

That we may make thy power appear,
And works of praise fulfil.

4 Thy saints in all this glorious war
Shall conquer, though they die :
They see the triumph from afar,
And seize it with their eye.

5 When that illustrious day shall rise,
And all thine armies shine

In robes of vict'ry through the skies,
The glory shall be thine.

HYMN CLVIII. 2 Cor. v. 1,5—8. (c. M.) 1 THERE is a house not made with hands, Eternal, and on high;

And here my spirit waiting stands,
Till God shall bid it fly.

2 Shortly this prison of my clay
Must be dissolv'd and fall:
Then, O my soul! with joy obey
Thy heav'nly Father's call.

3 'Tis he, by his almighty grace,

That forms thee fit for heav'n;
And, as an earnest of the place,
Has his own Spirit giv'n.

4 We walk by faith of joys to come;
Faith lives upon his word;
But while the body is our home,
We're absent from the Lord.

5 'Tis pleasant to believe thy grace,
But we had rather see;

We would be absent from the flesh,
And present, Lord, with thee.

HYMN CLIX. 2 Cor. v. 7. (L. M.)
1 'Tis by the faith of joys to come
We walk through deserts dark as night;
Till we arrive at heav'n, our home,
Faith is our guide, and faith our light.
2 The want of sight she well supplies;
She makes the pearly gates appear;
Far into distant worlds she pries,
And brings eternal glories near.

3 Cheerful we tread the desert through, While faith inspires a heav'nly ray, Though lions roar, and tempests blow, And clouds and darkness spread the way.

4 So Abra'm, by divine command,
Left his own house to walk with God;
His faith beheld the promis'd land,
And fir'd his zeal along the road.

HYMN CLX. Galat. v. 17. (L. M.) 1 WHAT jarring natures dwell within, Imperfect grace, remaining sin! Nor this can reign, nor that prevail, Though each by turns my heart assail. 2 Now I complain, and groan, and die; Now raise my songs of triumph high; Sing a rebellious passion slain, Or mourn to feel it live again. 3 Again the Spirit lifts his sword, And power divine attends the word: I feel the aid its comforts yield, Aud vanquish'd passions quit the field. 4 But short the joys thy visits give: How for thine absence, Lord, I grieve! What clouds obscure my rising sun, Or intercept its rays at noon!

5 Great God, assist me through the fight, Make me triumphant in thy might: Thou the desponding heart canst raise, The vict'ry mine, and thine the praise.

HYMN CLXI. Galat. vi. 14. (L. M.)
1 WE sing the praise of him who died,
Of him who died upon the cross:
The sinner's hope let men deride;
For this we count the world but loss.

2 Inscrib'd upon the cross we see
In shining letters "GOD IS LOVE:"

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He bears our sins upon the tree, He brings us mercy from above. 3 THE CROSS! it takes our guilt away, It holds the fainting spirit up;

It cheers with hope the gloomy day, And sweetens every bitter cup. 4 It makes the coward spirit brave, And nerves the feeble arm for fight; It takes it's terror from the grave, And gilds the bed of death with light. 5 The balm of life, the cure of woe, The measure and the pledge of love; The sinner's refuge here below, The angels' theme in heav'n above.

HYMN CLXII. Ephes. 11. 1-8. (c. M.)
1 GREAT King of glory and of grace!
We own with humble shame,
How vile is our degen'rate race,
And our first father's name.

2 From Adam flows our tainted blood;
The poison reigns within;
Makes us averse to all that's good,
And willing slaves to sin.

3 We live estrang'd afar from God,
And love the distance well;

With haste we run the dang'rous road,
That leads to death and hell.

4 And can such rebels be restor❜d?
Such natures made divine?
Let sinners see thy glory, Lord,
And feel this power of thine.

5 We raise our Father's name on high, Who his own Spirit sends

To bring rebellious strangers nigh,
And turn his foes to friends.

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