A vision of the kingdom of Christ among men.

Rev. 21:1-4.

Lo! what a glorious sight appears
To our believing eyes!
The earth and sea are passed away,
And the old rolling skies.

From the third heav'n, where God resides,
That holy, happy place,
The new Jerusalem comes down,
Adorned with shining grace.

Attending angels shout for joy,
And the bright armies sing-
"Mortals, behold the sacred seat
Of your descending King.

"The God of glory down to men
Removes his blest abode;
Men, the dear objects of his grace,
And he the loving God.

"His own soft hand shall wipe the tears
From every weeping eye,
And pains, and groans, and griefs, and fears,
And death itself, shall die."

How long, dear Savior! O how long
Shall this bright hour delay?
Fly swifter round, ye wheels of time,
And bring the welcome day.

Christ's sufferings and exaltation.

Now let our mournful songs record
The dying sorrows of our Lord,
When he complained in tears and blood,
As one forsaken of his God.

The Jews beheld him thus forlorn,
And shake their heads, and laugh in scorn:
"He rescued others from the grave;
Now let him try himself to save.

"This is the man did once pretend
God was his Father and his Friend
If God the blessed loved him so,
Why doth he fail to help him now?"

Barbarous people! cruel priests!
How they stood round like savage beasts!
Like lions gaping to devour,
When God had left him in their power.

They wound his head, his hands, his feet,
Till streams of blood each other meet;
By lot his garments they divide,
And mock the pangs in which he died.

But God, his Father, heard his cry;
Raised from the dead, he reigns on high,
The nations learn his righteousness,
And humble sinners taste his grace.

Warning to magistrates.

Judges, who rule the world by laws,
Will ye despise the righteous cause,
When th' injured poor before you stands?
Dare ye condemn the righteous poor,
And let rich sinners 'scape secure,
While gold and greatness bribe your hands?

Have ye forgot, or never knew,
That God will judge the judges too?
High in the heav'ns his justice reigns;
Yet you invade the rights of God,
And send your bold decrees abroad,
To bind the conscience in your chains.

A poisoned arrow is your tongue,
The arrow sharp, the poison strong,
And death attends where'er it wounds:
You hear no counsels, cries, or tears;
So the deaf adder stops her ears
Against the power of charming sounds.

Break out their teeth, eternal God,
Those teeth of lions dyed in blood;
And crush the serpents in the dust:
As empty chaff when whirlwinds rise
Before the sweeping tempest flies,
So let their hopes and names be lost.

Th' Almighty thunders from the sky,
Their grandeur melts, their titles die,
As hills of snow dissolve and run,
Or snails that perish in their slime,
Or births that come before their time,
Vain births, that never see the sun.

Thus shall the vengeance of the Lord
Safety and joy to saints afford;
And all that hear shall join and say,
"Sure there's a God that rules on high,
A God that hears his children cry,
And will their suff'rings well repay."

Deliverance from oppression and falsehood.

O Thou whose justice reigns on high,
And makes th' oppressor cease,
Behold how envious sinners try
To vex and break my peace.

The sons of violence and lies
Join to devour me, Lord;
But as my hourly dangers rise,
My refuge is thy word.

In God most holy, just, and true,
I have reposed my trust;
Nor will I fear what flesh can do,
The offspring of the dust.

They wrest my words to mischief still,
Charge me with unknown faults;
Mischief doth all their counsels fill,
And malice all their thoughts.

Shall they escape without thy frown?
Must their devices stand?
O cast the haughty sinner down,
And let him know thy hand.

PAUSE.

God counts the sorrows of his saints,
Their groans affect his ears;
Thou hast a book for my complaints,
A bottle for my tears.

When to thy throne I raise my cry,
The wicked fear and flee;
So swift is prayer to reach the sky,
So near is God to me.

In thee, most holy, just, and true,
I have reposed my trust;
Nor will I fear what man can do,
The offspring of the dust.

Thy solemn vows are on me, Lord,
Thou shalt receive my praise;
I'll sing, "How faithful is thy word,
How righteous all thy ways!"

Thou hast secured my soul from death,
O set thy pris'ner free!
That heart and hand, and life and breath,
May be employ'd for thee.

v.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 leveled 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 ev'ry breath;
Horror and fear beset me round
Amongst the shades of death.

O were I like a feathered 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.

PAUSE.

By morning light I'll seek his face,
At noon repeat my cry;
The night shall hear me ask his grace,
Nor will he long deny.

God shall preserve my soul from fear,
Or shield me when afraid;
Ten thousand angels must appear,
If he command their aid.

I cast my burdens on the Lord,
The Lord sustains them all;
My courage rests upon his word,
That saints shall never fall.

My highest hopes shall not be vain,
My lips shall spread his praise;
While cruel and deceitful men
Scarce live out half their days.

Psalm 102 Part 1

v.1-13,20,21
C. M.
A prayer of the afflicted.

Hear me, O God, nor hide thy face;
But answer, lest I die;
Hast thou not built a throne of grace
To hear when sinners cry?

My days are wasted like the smoke
Dissolving in the air;
My strength is dried, my heart is broke,
And sinking in despair.

My spirits flag like with'ring grass
Burnt with excessive heat;
In secret groans my minutes pass,
And I forget to eat.

As on some lonely building's top
The sparrow tells her moan,
Far from the tents of joy and hope
I sit and grieve alone.

My soul is like a wilderness,
Where beasts of midnight howl;
There the sad raven finds her place,
And there the screaming owl.

Dark, dismal thoughts, and boding fears,
Dwell in my troubled breast;
While sharp reproaches wound my ears,
Nor give my spirit rest.

My cup is mingled with my woes,
And tears are my repast;
My daily bread, like ashes, grows
Unpleasant to my taste.

Sense can afford no real joy
To souls that feel thy frown;
Lord, 'twas thy hand advanced me high,
Thy hand hath cast me down.

My looks like withered leaves appear;
And life's declining light
Grows faint as evening shadows are
That vanish into night.

But thou for ever art the same,
O my eternal God;
Ages to come shall know thy name,
And spread thy works abroad.

Thou wilt arise and show thy face,
Nor will my Lord delay
Beyond th' appointed hour of grace,
That long-expected day.

He hears his saints, he knows their cry,
And by mysterious ways
Redeems the pris'ners doomed to die,
And fills their tongues with praise.

Psalm 69 Part 1

v.1-14
C. M.
The sufferings of Christ for our salvation.

"Save me, O God, the swelling floods
Break in upon my soul;
I sink, and sorrows o'er my head
Like mighty waters roll.

"I cry till all my voice be gone,
In tears I waste the day:
My God, behold my longing eyes,
And shorten thy delay.

"They hate my soul without a cause,
And still their number grows
More than the hairs around my head,
And mighty are my foes.

"'Twas then I paid that dreadful debt
That men could never pay,
And gave those honors to thy law
Which sinners took away."

Thus in the great Messiah's name,
The royal prophet mourns;
Thus he awakes our hearts to grief,
And gives us joy by turns.

"Now shall the saints rejoice, and find
Salvation in my name;
For I have borne their heavy load
Of sorrow, pain, and shame.

"Grief, like a garment, clothed me round,
And sackcloth was my dress,
While I procured for naked souls
A robe of righteousness.

"Amongst my brethren and the Jews
I like a stranger stood,
And bore their vile reproach, to bring
The Gentiles near to God.

"I came in sinful mortals' stead,
To do my Father's will;
Yet when I cleansed my Father's house,
They scandalized my zeal.

"My fasting and my holy groans
Were made the drunkard's song;
But God, from his celestial throne,
Heard my complaining tongue.

"He saved me from the dreadful deep,
Nor let my soul be drowned;
He raised and fixed my sinking feet
On well-established ground.

"'Twas in a most accepted hour
My prayer arose on high;
And for my sake my God shall hear
The dying sinner's cry.

Complaint of heavy afflictions in mind and body.

My righteous Judge, my gracious God,
Hear when I spread my hands abroad,
And cry for succor from thy throne;
O make thy truth and mercy known!

Let judgment not against me pass;
Behold, thy servant pleads thy grace:
Should justice call us to thy bar,
No man alive is guiltless there.

Look down in pity, Lord, and see
The mighty woes that burden me;
Down to the dust my life is brought,
Like one long buried and forgot.

I dwell in darkness and unseen,
My heart is desolate within
My thoughts in musing silence trace
The ancient wonders of thy grace.

Thence I derive a glimpse of hope
To bear my sinking spirits up;
I stretch my hands to God again,
And thirst like parched lands for rain

For thee I thirst, I pray, I mourn:
When will thy smiling face return?
Shall all my joys on earth remove?
And God for ever hide his love?

My God, thy long delay to save
Will sink thy pris'ner to the grave;
My heart grows faint, and dim mine eye;
Make haste to help before I die.

The night is witness to my tears,
Distressing pains, distressing fears;
O might I hear thy morning voice,
How would my wearied powers rejoice!

In thee I trust, to thee I sigh,
And lift my heavy soul on high;
For thee sit waiting all the day,
And wear the tiresome hours away.

Break off my fetters, Lord, and show
Which is the path my feet should go;
If snares and foes beset the road,
I flee to hide me near my God.

Teach me to do thy holy will,
And lead me to thy heav'nly hill;
Let the good Spirit of thy love
Conduct me to thy courts above.

Then shall my soul no more complain,
The tempter then shall rage in vain;
And flesh, that was my foe before,
Shall never vex my spirit more.

The church's prayer under affliction; or, The vineyard of God wasted.

Great Shepherd of thine Israel,
Who didst between the cherubs dwell,
And lead the tribes, thy chosen sheep,
Safe through the desert and the deep;

Thy church is in the desert now,
Shine from on high and guide us through;
Turn us to thee, thy love restore,
We shall be saved and sigh no more.

Great God, whom heav'nly hosts obey,
How long shall we lament and pray,
And wait in vain thy kind return?
How long shall thy fierce anger burn?

Instead of wine and cheerful bread
Thy saints with their own tears are fed:
Turn us to thee, thy love restore,
We shall be saved, and sigh no more.

PAUSE I.

Hast thou not planted with thy hands
A lovely vine in heathen lands?
Did not thy power defend it round,
And heav'nly dews enrich the ground?

How did the spreading branches shoot,
And bless the nations with the fruit!
But now, dear Lord, look down and see
Thy mourning vine, that lovely tree.

Why is its beauty thus defaced?
Why hast thou laid her fences waste?
Strangers and foes against her join,
And every beast devours the vine.

Return, Almighty God, return,
Nor let thy bleeding vineyard mourn;
Turn us to thee, thy love restore,
We shall be saved, and sigh no more.

PAUSE II.

Lord, when this vine in Canaan grew,
Thou wast its strength and glory too;
Attacked in vain by all its foes,
Till the fair Branch of Promise rose:

Fair Branch, ordained of old to shoot
From David's stock, from Jacob's root;
Himself a noble vine, and we
The lesser branches of the tree.

'Tis thy own Son; and he shall stand
Girt with thy strength at thy right hand;
Thy first-born Son, adorned and blest
With power and grace above the rest.

O for his sake attend our cry,
Shine on thy churches lest they die;
Turn us to thee, thy love restore,
We shall be saved, and sigh no more.

Psalm Lxxiii: Now I'M Convinced The Lord Is Kind

Now I 'm convinced the Lord is kind
To men of heart sincere;
Yet once my foolish thoughts repined,
And bordered on despair.

I grieved to see the wicked thrive,
And spoke with angry breath,
"How pleasant and profane they live !
How peaceful is their death !

"With well-fed flesh and haughty eyes,
They lay their fears to sleep;
Against the heav'ns their slanders rise,
While saints in silence weep.

"In vain I lift my hands to pray,
And cleanse my heart in vain;
For I am chastened all the day,
The night renews my pain."

Yet while my tongue indulged complaints,
I felt my heart reprove,
"Sure I shall thus offend thy saints,
And grieve the men I love."

But still I found my doubts too hard,
The conflict too severe,
Till I retired to search thy word,
And learn thy secrets there.

There, as in some prophetic glass,
I saw the sinner's feet
High mounted on a slipp'ry place,
Beside a fiery pit.

I heard the wretch profanely boast,
Till at thy frown he fell;
His honors in a dream were lost,
And he awakes in hell.

Lord, what an envious fool I was!
How like a thoughtless beast
Thus to suspect thy promised grace,
And think the wicked blessed.

Yet I was kept from full despair,
Upheld by power unknown;
That blessed hand that broke the snare
Shall guide me to thy throne.

God, my supporter and my hope,
My help for ever near,
Thine arm of mercy held me up,
When sinking in despair.

Thy counsels, Lord, shall guide my feet
Through this dark wilderness;
Thine hand conduct me near thy seat,
To dwell before thy face.

Were I in heav'n without my God,
'twould be no joy to me;
And whilst this earth is my abode,
I long for none but thee.

What if the springs of life were broke,
And flesh and heart should faint?
God is my soul's eternal rock,
The strength of ev'ry saint.

Behold, the sinners that remove
Far from thy presence die;
Not all the idol gods they love
Can save them when they cry.

But to draw near to thee, my God,
Shall be my sweet employ;
My tongue shall sound thy works abroad,
And tell the world my joy.

Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I,
To mourn, and murmur, and repine,
To see the wicked placed on high,
In pride and robes of' honour shine!

But O their end, their dreadful end!
Thy sanctuary taught me so;
On slipp'ry rocks I see them stand,
And fiery billows roll below.

Now let them boast how tall they rise,
I'll never envy them again;
There they may stand with haughty eyes,
Till they plunge deep in endless pain.

Their fancied joys, how fast they flee!
Just like a dream when man awakes;
Their songs of softest harmony
Are but a preface to their plagues.

Now I esteem their mirth and wine
Too dear to purchase with my blood;
Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine,
My life, my portion, and my God.

Sure there's a righteous God,
Nor is religion vain;
Though men of vice may boast aloud,
And men of grace complain.

I saw the wicked rise,
And felt my heart repine,
While haughty fools with scornful eyes
In robes of' honor shine.

Pampered with wanton ease,
Their flesh looks full and fair;
Their wealth rolls in like flowing seas,
And grows without their care.

Free from the plagues and pains
That pious souls endure;
Through all their life oppression reigns,
And racks the humble poor.

Their impious tongues blaspheme
The everlasting God;
Their malice blasts the good man's name,
And spreads their lies abroad.

But I with flowing tears
Indulged my doubts to rise;
"Is there a God that sees or hears
The things below the skies?"

The tumults of my thought
Held me in hard suspense,
Till to thy house my feet were brought,
To learn thy justice thence.

Thy word with light and power
Did my mistake amend;
I viewed the sinners' life before,
But here I learned their end.

On what a slippery steep
The thoughtless wretches go;
And O that dreadful fiery deep
That waits their fall below!

Lord, at thy feet I bow,
My thoughts no more repine;
I call my God my portion now,
And all my powers are thine.