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NOW begin the heavenly theme,
Join to praise redeeming love. 220
149TI. YE servants of God, your Master proclaim, And publish abroad his wonderful Name; The Name all-victorious of Jesus extol, His kingdom is glorious, and rules over all. God ruleth on high, almighty to save, And still He is nigh, his presence we have: The great congregation his triumph shall sing, Ascribing salvation to Jesus our King.
Salvation to God, who sits on the throne,
TO God, the only wise,
Our Saviour and our King,
Their humble praises bring.
His counsel and his care,
And every hurtful snare.
Unblemish'd and complete,
With joys divinely great.
Shall meet around the throne,
And make his wonders known.
Wisdom and power belong,
And everlasting song.
LORD, hast Thou said, “ Ask what thou wilt?":
Fain would we seize the golden hour;
More of thy presence, Lord, impart,
More of thine image let us bear; Erect thy throne in every heart,
And reign without a rival there.
Give us to read our pardon seal'd,
And from thy joy to draw our strength; To trace thy boundless love, reveal'd
In all its height, and breadth, and length,
Grant these requests, we ask no more,
But to thy care the rest resign ; Sick, or in health, or rich, poor,
All shall be well if we are thine.
Sprinkled with blood, where Jesus answers prayer; There humbly cast thyself beneath his feet,
For never needy sinner perish'd there.
Lord, I am come, thy promise is my plea,
Without thy word I durst not venture nigh ; But Thou hast call'd the burden'd soul to Thee,
A weary burden'd soul, O Lord, am I.
Bow'd down beneath a heavy load of sin,
By Satan's fierce temptations sorely prest,
Trembling and faint, I come to Thee for rest.
I know no force can tear me from thy side ; Unmov'd I then may all accusers face,
And answer every charge with “Jesus died.”
BEHOLD the throne of grace!
The promise calls me near;
Who waits to answer prayer.
Which sprinkled round I see,
An all-prevailing plea.
Thou canst not be too bold;
What else will He withhold ?
Thy presence and thy love ;
And reign with Thee above.
will to thine; Let me victorious be in death,
And then in glory shine.
WHERE high the heavenly temple stands,
With boldness, therefore, at the throne
WITH joy we meditate the grace
Of our High Priest above;
And overflows with love.
Touch'd with a sympathy within,
He knows our feeble frame;
For He has felt the same.