Epiphonema

Sinners, awake betimes; ye fools, be wise; Awake before this dreadful morning rise: Change your vain thoughts, your crooked works amend, Fly to the Saviour, make the Judge your friend: Then join the saints: wake every cheerful passion; When Christ returns, he comes for your salvation.

Psalm 51:1. First Part. L. M. A penitent pleading for pardon.

Shew pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive, Let a repenting rebel live: Are not thy mercies large and free? May not a sinner trust in thee?

My crimes are great, but not surpass The power and glory of thy grace; Great God, thy nature hath no bound, So let thy pardoning love be found.

O wash my Soul from every sin, And make my guilty conscience clean; Here on my heart the burden lies, And past offences pain my eyes.

My lips with shame my sins confess Against thy law, against thy grace: Lord, should thy judgment grow severe, I am condemn'd, but thou art clear.

Should sudden vengeance seize my breath, I must pronounce thee just in death; And if my soul were sent to hell, Thy righteous law approves it well.

Yet save a trembling sinner, Lord, Whose hope, still hovering round thy word, Would light on some sweet promise there, Some sure support against despair.

Psalms 51:2. Second Part. L. M. Original and actual sin confessed.

Lord, I am vile, conceiv'd in sin; And born unholy and unclean; Sprung from the man whose guilty fall Corrupts the race, and taints us all.

Soon as we draw our infant-breath, The seeds of sin grow up for death; Thy law demands a perfect heart, But we're defil'd in every part.

[Great God, create my heart anew, And form my spirit pure and true: O make me wise betimes to spy My danger, and my remedy.]

Behold I fall before thy face; My only refuge is thy grace: No outward forms can make me clean; The leprosy lies deep within.

No bleeding bird, nor bleeding beast, Nor hyssop branch, nor sprinkling priest, Nor running brook, nor flood, nor sea, Can wash the dismal stain away.

Jesus, my God, thy blood alone Hath power sufficient to atone; Thy blood can make me white as snow; No Jewish types could cleanse me so.

While guilt disturbs and breaks my peace, Nor flesh, nor soul hath rest or ease; Lord, let me hear thy pardoning voice, And make my broken bones rejoice.

Psalm 51:3. Third Part. L. M. The backslider restored; or, Repentance and faith in the blood of Christ.

O thou that hear'st when sinners cry, Tho' all my crimes before thee lie, Behold them not with angry look, But blot their memory from thy book.

Create my nature pure within, And form my soul averse to sin; Let thy good Spirit ne'er depart, Nor hide thy presence from my heart.

I cannot live without thy light, Cast out and banish'd from thy sight: Thine holy joys, my God, restore, And guard me that I fall no more.

Tho' I have griev'd thy Spirit, Lord, His help and comfort still afford: And let a wretch come near thy throne To plead the merits of thy Son.

A broken heart, my God, my King, Is all the sacrifice I bring; The God of grace will ne'er despise A broken heart for sacrifice.

My soul lies humbled in the dust, And owns thy dreadful sentence just; Look down, O Lord, with pitying eye, And save the soul condemn'd to die.

Then will I teach the world thy ways; Sinners shall learn thy sovereign grace; I'll lead them to my Saviour's blood, And they shall praise a pardoning God.

O may thy love inspire my tongue! Salvation shall be all my song; And all my powers shall join to bless The Lord, my strength and righteousness.

Psalm 51:4. 3-13. First Part. C. M. Original and actual sin confessed and pardoned.

Lord, I would spread my sore distress And guilt before thine eyes; Against thy laws, against thy grace, How high my crimes arise.

Shouldst thou condemn my soul to hell, And crush my flesh to dust, Heaven would approve thy vengeance well, And earth must own it just.

I from the stock of Adam came, Unholy and unclean; All my original is shame, And all my nature sin.

Born in a world of guilt, I drew Contagion with my breath; And, as my days advanc'd, I grew A juster prey for death.

Cleanse me, O Lord, and cheer my soul With thy forgiving love; O, make my broken spirit whole, And bid my pains remove.

Let not thy Spirit quite depart, Nor drive me from thy face; Create anew my vicious heart, And fill it with thy grace.

Then will I make thy mercy known Before the sons of men; Backsliders shall address thy throne, And turn to God again.

Psalm 51:5. 14-17. Second Part. C. M. Repentance and faith in the blood of Christ.

O God of mercy! hear my call, My loads of guilt remove; Break down this separating wall That bars me from thy love.

Give me the presence of thy grace, Then my rejoicing tongue Shall speak aloud thy righteousness, And make thy praise my song.

No blood of goats, nor heifers slain, For sin could e'er atone; The death of Christ shall still remain Sufficient and alone.

A soul opprest with sin's desert, My God will ne'er despise; A humble groan, a broken heart Is our best sacrifice.

Psalm 53. 4-6. Victory and deliverance from persecution.

Are all the foes of Sion fools, Who thus devour her saints? Do they not know her Saviour rules, And pities her complaints?

They shall be seiz'd with sad surprise; For God's revenging arm Scatters the bones of them that rise To do his children harm.

In vain the sons of Satan boast Of armies in array: When God has first despis'd their host, They fall an easy prey.

O for a word from Sion's King Her captives to restore! Jacob with all his tribes shall sing, And Judah weep no more.

Psalm 55:1. 1-8 16-18 22. C. M. Support for the afflicted and tempted soul.

O God, my refuge, hear my cries, Behold my flowing tears, For earth and hell my hurt devise, And triumph in my fears.

Their rage is levell'd at my life, My soul with guilt they load, And fill my thoughts with inward strife To shake my hope in God.

With inward pain my heart-strings sound, I groan with every breath; Horror and fear beset me round Amongst the shades of death,

O were I like a feather'd dove, And innocence had wings, I'd fly, and make a long remove, From all these restless things.

Let me to some wild desert go, And find a peaceful home, Where storms of malice never blow, Temptations never come.

Vain hopes, and vain inventions all To 'scape the rage of hell! The mighty God on whom I call Can save me here as well.