No. IX. REDEMPTION

The mighty frame of glorious grace, That brightest monument of praise That e'er the GOD of love design'd, Employs and fills my labouring mind.

Begin, my muse, the heavenly song, A burden for an angel's tongue: When Gabriel sounds these awful things, He tunes and summons all his strings,

Proclaim inimitable love: Jesus the Lord of worlds above, Puts off the beams of bright array, And veils the GOD in mortal clay.

What black reproach defil'd his name, When with our sin he took our shame! The Power whom kneeling angels blest Is made the impious rabble's jest.

He that distributes crowns and thrones, Hangs on a tree and bleeds and groans: The Prince of Life resigns his breath, The King of Glory bows to death.

But see the wonders of his power, He triumphs in his dying hour, And whilst by Satan's rage he fell, He dasht the rising hopes of hell.

Thus were the hosts of death subdu'd, And sin was drown'd in Jesus' blood; Then he arose, and reigns above, And conquers sinners by his love.