Composed on Divine Subjects

Hymn 2:1. A song of praise to God from Great Britain.

Nature with all her powers shall sing God the Creator and the King; Nor air, nor earth, nor skies, nor seas Deny the tribute of their praise.

[Begin to make his glories known, Ye seraphs that sit near his throne; Tune your harps high, and spread the sound To the creation's utmost bound.

All mortal things of meaner frame, Exert your force and own his Name; Whilst with our souls and with our voice We sing his honours and our joys.]

[To him be sacred all we have From the young cradle to the grave: Our lips shall his loud wonders tell, And every word a miracle.]

[This northern isle, our native land, Lies safe in God th' Almighty's hand: Our foes of victory dream in vain, And wear the captivating chain.

He builds and guards the British throne, And makes it gracious like his own, Makes our successive princes kind, And gives our dangers to the wind.]

Raise monumental praises high To him that thunders thro' the sky, And with an awful nod or frown Shakes an aspiring tyrant down.

[Pillars of lasting brass proclaim The triumphs of th' eternal Name; While trembling nations read from far The honours of the God of war.]

Thus let our flaming zeal employ Our loftiest thoughts and loudest songs Britain pronounce with warmest joy Hosanna from ten thousand tongues.

Yet, mighty God, our feeble frame Attempts in vain to reach thy Name; The strongest notes that angels raise Faint in the worship and the praise.

Hymn 2:2. The death of a sinner.

My thoughts on awful subjects roll, Damnation and the dead; What horrors seize the guilty soul Upon a dying bed!

Lingering about these mortal shores, She makes a long delay, Till like a flood with rapid force Death sweeps the wretch away.

Then swift and dreadful she descends Down to the fiery coast, Amongst abominable fiends, Herself a frightful ghost.

There endless crowds of sinners lie, And darkness makes their chains; Tortur'd with keen despair they cry, Yet wait for fiercer pains.

Not all their anguish and their blood For their old guilt atones, Nor the compassions of a God Shall hearken to their groans.

Amazing grace, that kept my breath, Nor bid my soul remove, Till I had learn'd my Saviour's death, And well insur'd his love!

Hymn 2:3. The death and burial of a saint.

Why do we mourn departing friends Or shake at death's alarms? 'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends To call them to his arms.

Are we not tending upward too As fast as time can move? Nor would we wish the hours more slow To keep us from our love.

Why should we tremble to convey Their bodies to the tomb? There the dear flesh of Jesus lay, And left a long perfume.

The graves of all his saints he bless'd, And soften'd every bed; Where should the dying members rest, But with the dying head?

Thence he arose, ascending high, And shew'd our feet the way; Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly At the great rising day.

Then let the last loud trumpet sound, And bid our kindred rise, Awake, ye nations under ground, Ye saints, ascend the skies.

Hymn 2:4. Salvation in the cross.

Here at thy cross, my dying God, I lay my soul beneath thy love, Beneath the droppings of thy blood, Jesus, nor shall it e'er remove.

Not all that tyrants think or say, With rage and lightning in their eyes, Nor hell shall fright my heart away, Should hell with all its legions rise.

Should worlds conspire to drive me thence, Moveless and firm this heart should lie; Resolv'd (for that's my last defence) If I must perish, there to die.

But speak, my Lord, and calm my fear, Am I not safe beneath thy, shade? Thy vengeance will not strike me here, Nor Satan dares my soul invade.

Yes, I'm secure beneath thy blood, And all my foes shall lose their aim, Hosanna to my dying God, And my best honours to his Name.

Hymn 2:5. Longing to praise Christ better.

Lord, when my thoughts with wonder roll O'er the sharp sorrows of thy soul, And read my Maker's broken laws Repair'd and honour'd by thy cross;

When I behold death, hell and sin, Vanquish'd by that dear blood of thine, And see the man that groan'd and dy'd Sit glorious by his Father's side;

My passions rise and soar above, I'm wing'd with faith and fir'd with love; Fain would I reach eternal things, And learn the notes that Gabriel sings.

But my heart fails, my tongue complains, For want of their immortal strains; And in such humble notes as these Must fall below thy victories.

Well, the kind minute must appear When we shall leave these bodies here, These clogs of clay, and mount on high, To join the songs above the sky.

Hymn 2:6. A morning song.

Once more, my soul, the rising day Salutes thy waking eyes. Once more, my voice, thy tribute pay To him that rolls the skies.

Night unto night his name repeats, The day renews the sound, Wide as the heaven on which he sits To turn the seasons round.

'Tis he supports my mortal frame, My tongue shall speak his praise; My sins would rouse his wrath to flame, And yet his wrath delays.

On a poor worm thy power might tread, And I could ne'er withstand; Thy justice might have crush'd me dead, But mercy held thine hand.

A thousand wretched souls are fled Since the last setting sun, And yet thou length'nest out my thread, And yet my moments run.

Dear God, let all my hours be thine Whilst I enjoy the light, Then shall my sun in smiles decline, And bring a pleasing night.

Hymn 2:7. An evening song.

[Dread Sovereign, let my evening song Like holy incense rise; Assist the offerings of my tongue To reach the lofty skies.

Thro' all the dangers of the day, Thy hand was still my guard, And still to drive my wants away Thy mercy stood prepar'd.]

Perpetual blessings from above Encompass me around, But O how few returns of love Hath my Creator found!

What have I done for him that dy'd To save my wretched soul? How are my follies multiply'd, Fast as my minutes roll;

Lord, with this guilty heart of mine To thy dear cross I flee, And to thy grace my soul resign To be renew'd by thee.

Sprinkled afresh with pardoning blood I lay me down to rest, As in th' embraces of my God, Or on my Saviour's breast.

Hymn 2:8. A hymn for morning or evening.

Hosanna, with a cheerful sound, To God's upholding hand; Ten thousand snares attend us round, And yet secure we stand.

That was a most amazing power That rais'd us with a word, And every day and every hour We lean upon the Lord.

The evening rests our weary head, And angels guard the room; We wake and we admire the bed That was not made our tomb.

The rising morning can't assure That we shall end the day, For death stands ready at the door To seize our lives away.

Our breath is forfeited by sin To God's revenging law; We own thy grace, immortal King, In every gasp we draw.

God is our sun, whose daily light Our joy and safety brings: Our feeble flesh lies safe at night Beneath his shady wings.

Hymn 2:9. Godly sorrow arising from the sufferings of Christ.

Alas! and did my Saviour bleed, And did my Sovereign die? Would he devote that sacred head For such a worm as I?

[Thy body slain, sweet Jesus, thine, And bath'd in its own blood, While all expos'd to wrath divine The glorious Sufferer stood.]

Was it for crimes that I had done He groan'd upon the tree? Amazing pity! grace unknown! And love beyond degree!

Well might the sun in darkness hide, And shut his glories in, When God the mighty Maker dy'd For man the creature's sin.

Thus might I hide my blushing face While his dear cross appears, Dissolve my heart in thankfulness, And melt my eyes to tears.

But drops of grief can ne'er repay The debt of love I owe; Here, Lord, I give myself away, 'Tis all that I can do.

Hymn 2:10. Parting with carnal joys.

My soul forsakes her vain delight, And bids the world farewell Base as the dirt beneath my feet, And mischievous as hell.

No longer will I ask your love, Nor seek your friendship more; The happiness that I approve Lies not within your power.

There's nothing round this spacious earth That suits my large desire; To boundless joy and solid mirth My nobler thoughts aspire.

[Where pleasure rolls its living flood, From sin and dross refin'd, Still springing from the throne of God, And fit to cheer the mind.

Th' Almighty Ruler of the sphere, The glorious and the great, Brings his own all-sufficience there, To make our bliss complete.]

Had I the pinions of a dove, I'd climb the heavenly road; There sits my Saviour dress'd in love, And there my smiling God.

Hymn 2:11. The same.

Send the joys of earth away, Away ye tempters of the mind, False as the smooth deceitful sea, And empty as the whistling wind.

Your streams were floating me along Down to the gulf of black despair, And whilst I listen'd to your song, Your streams had e'en convey'd me there.

Lord, I adore thy matchless grace, That warn'd me of that dark abyss, That drew me from those treacherous seas, And bid me seek superior bliss.

Now to the shining realms above I stretch my hands, and glance mine eyes; O for the pinions of a dove To bear me to the upper skies.

There from the bosom of my God Oceans of endless pleasure roll; There would I fix my last abode, And drown the sorrows of my soul.

Hymn 2:12. Christ is the substance of the Levitical priesthood.

The true Messiah now appears, The types are all withdrawn; So fly the shadows and the stars Before the rising dawn.

No smoking sweets, nor bleeding lambs, Nor kid, nor bullock slain, Incense and spice of costly names Would all be burnt in vain.

Aaron must lay his robes away; His mitre and his vest, When God himself comes down to be The offering and the priest.

He took our mortal flesh to show The wonders of his love; For us he paid his life below, And prays for us above.

"Father, (he cries) forgive their sins, "For I myself have dy'd," And then he shews his open'd veins, And pleads his wounded side.

Hymn 2:13. The creation, preservation, dissolution, and restoration of this world.

Sing to the Lord that built the skies, The Lord that rear'd this stately frame; Let half the nations sound his praise, And lands unknown repeat his Name.

He form'd the seas, and form'd the hills, Made every drop and every dust, Nature and time with all their wheels, And push'd them into motion first.

Now from his high imperial throne He looks far down upon the spheres; He bids the shining orbs roll on, And round he turns our hasty years.

Thus shall this moving engine last Till all his saints are gather'd in, Then for the trumpet's dreadful blast To shake it all to dust again!

Yet when the sound shall tear the skies, And lightning burn the globe below, Saints, you may lift your joyful eyes, There's a new heaven and earth for you.

Hymn 2:14. The Lord's day; or, Delight in ordinances.

Welcome, sweet day of rest, That saw the Lord arise; Welcome to this reviving breast, And these rejoicing eyes!

The King himself comes near, And feasts his saints to-day, Here we may sit, and see him here, And love, and praise, and pray.

One day amidst the place Where my dear God hath been, Is sweeter than ten thousand days Of pleasurable sin.

My willing soul would stay In such a frame as this, And sit and sing herself away To everlasting bliss.

Hymn 2:15. The enjoyment of Christ; or, Delight in worship.

Far from my thoughts, vain world, be gone, Let my religious hours alone; Fain would my eyes my Saviour see, I wait a visit, Lord, from thee.

My heart grows warm with holy fire, And kindles with a pure desire: Come, my dear Jesus, from above, And feed my soul with heavenly love.

[The trees of life immortal stand In flourishing rows at thy right-hand, And in sweet murmurs by their side Rivers of bliss perpetual glide.

Haste then, but with a smiling face, And spread the table of thy grace: Bring down a taste of fruit divine, And cheer my heart with sacred wine.]

Blest Jesus, what delicious fare! How sweet thy entertainments are! Never did angels taste above Redeeming grace, and dying love.

Hail, great Immanuel, all divine, In thee thy Father's glories shine; Thou brightest, sweetest, fairest one, That eyes have seen, or angels known.

Hymn 2:16. Part the second.

Lord, what a heaven of saving grace, Shines thro' the beauties of thy face, And lights our passions to a flame! Lord, how we love thy charming Name!

When I can say, my God is mine, When I can feel thy glories shine, I tread the world beneath my feet, And all that earth calls good or great.

While such a scene of sacred joys Our raptur'd eyes and souls employs, Here we could sit, and gaze away A long, an everlasting day.

Well, we shall quickly pass the night To the fair coasts of perfect light; Then shall our joyful senses rove O'er the dear object of our love.

[There shall we drink full draughts of bliss, And pluck new life from heavenly trees: Yet now, and then, dear Lord, bestow A drop of heaven on worms below.

Send comforts down from thy right-hand, While we pass thro' this barren land, And in thy temple let us see A glimpse of love, a glimpse of thee.]

Hymn 2:17 God's eternity.

Rise, rise, my soul, and leave the ground, Stretch all thy thoughts abroad, And rouse up every tuneful sound To praise th' eternal God.

Long ere the lofty skies were spread Jehovah fill'd his throne; Or Adam form'd, or angels made, The Maker liv'd alone.

His boundless years can ne'er decrease, But still maintain their prime; Eternity's his dwelling-place, And ever is his time.

While like a tide our minutes flow, The present and the past, He fills his own immortal now, And sees our ages waste.

The sea and sky must perish too, And vast destruction come! The creatures—look, how old they grow, And wait their fiery doom!

Well, let the sea shrink all away, And flame melt down the skies, My God shall live an endless day, When th' old creation dies.

Hymn 2:18. The ministry of angels.

High on a hill of dazzling light, The King of Glory spreads his seat, And troops of angels stretch'd for flight, Stand waiting round his awful feet.

"Go," saith the Lord, "my Gabriel go, "Salute the virgin's fruitful womb, "Make haste, ye cherubs, down below, Sing and proclaim the Saviour come."

Here a bright squadron leaves the skies, And thick around Elisha stands; Anon a heavenly soldier flies, And breaks the chains from Peter's hands.

Thy winged troops, O God of hosts, Wait on thy wandering church below, Here we are sailing to thy coasts, Let angels be our convoy too.

Are they not all thy servants, Lord? At thy command they go and come With cheerful haste obey thy word, And guard thy children to their home.