d

What multitudes of thoughtless souls
The road to ruin go!

2 But yonder see that narrow way
Which leads to endless bliss;
There see a happy chosen few,
Redeem'd by sovereign grace.

3 They from destruction's city camé,
To Zion upward tend:
The bible is their precious guide,
And God himself their friend.

4 Lord, I would now a pilgrim be-
Guide thou my feet aright;

I would not for ten thousand worlds,
Be banish'd from thy sight.

HYMN 27. L. M.

Bath, Luther's Hymn.

DODDRIDGE.

The sinner weighed and found wanting. Dan. v. 27.

R

AISE, thoughtless sinner, raise thine
eye;-

Behold God's balance lifted high!
There shall his justice be display'd,
And there thy hope and life be weigh'd.
2 See in one scale his perfect law;

Mark with what force its precepts draw:
Wouldst thou the awful test sustain ?-
Thy works how light! thy thoughts how
vain!

3 Behold the hand of God appears
To trace in dreadful characters;

"Sinner-thy soul is wanting found, And wrath shall smite thee to the ground." 4 Let sudden fear thy nerves unbrace; Let horror change thy guilty face; Thro' all thy thoughts let anguish roll, Till deep repentance melt thy soul. 5 One only hope may yet prevail ;Christ hath a weight to turn the scale ; Still doth the gospel publish peace, And show a Saviour's righteousness. 6 Great God, exert thy power to save ; Deep on the heart, these truths engrave; The pond'rous load of guilt remove, That trembling lips may sing thy love.

HYMN 28. C. M.

Funeral Hymn, Elgin.

Hell. Isa. xxx. 33. Mark ix. 43, 44. 1 VAR from the utmost verge of day Those gloomy regions lie,

Where flames amid the darkness playThe worm shall never die.

2 The breath of God-his angry breath Supplies and fans the fire;

There sinners taste the second death,
And would-but can't expire.

3 Conscience, the never dying worm,
With torture gnaws the heart;
And wo and wrath, in every form,
Is now the sinner's part.

4 Sad world indeed! ah, who can bear

Forever there to dwellForever sinking in despair, In all the pains of hell!

HYMN 29. C. M.

Elgin, Funeral Hymn.

The Scoffer.

WATTS.

ALLye who laugh and sport with death, say, there is no hell;

The gasp of your expiring breath
Will send you there to dwell.
2 When iron slumbers bind your flesh,
With strange surprise you'll find
Immortal vigor spring afresh,

And tortures wake the mind!

3 Then you'll confess, the frightful names
Of plagues, you scorn'd before,
No more shall look like idle dreams,
Like foolish tales no more.

4 Then shall ye curse that fatal day,
With flames upon your tongues,
When you exchang'd your souls away
For vanity and songs.

HYMN 30. L. M.

Bath, Monmouth.

To-day. Heb. iv. 7.

HASTEN, O sinner, to be wise,
And stay not for the morrow's sun;

The longer wisdom you despise The harder is she to be won. 2 Oh, hasten, mercy to implore,

And stay not for the morrow's sun, For fear thy season should be o'er Before this evening's course be run. 3 Hasten, O sinner, to return,

And stay not for the morrow's sun, For fear thy lamp should fail to burn Before the needful work is done.

4 Hasten, O sinner, to be blest,

And stay not for the morrow's sun,
For fear the curse should thee arrest,
Before the morrow is begun.

HYMN 31. L. M.

Winchester, Bath, Wells.

NEWTON.

The fig-tree. Mark xi. 20.

ONE awful word which Jesus spoke

Against the tree that bore no fruit, More dreadful than the lightning's stroke, Blasted and dry'd it to the root.

2 How many, who the gospel hear,
Whom Satan blinds, and sin deceives,
May with this wither'd tree compare ?—
They yield no fruit, but only leaves.

3 Knowledge, and zeal, and gifts, and talk,
Unless combin'd with faith and love,
And witness'd by a gospel walk,
Will not a true profession prove.

4 Without such fruit as God expects, Knowledge will make our state the worse; The fruitless sinners he rejects,

And soon will blast them with his curse.

HYMN 32.

S. M.

DODDRIDGE.

Dunbar, Orange, Bridgeport.

Preparation for the Judgment. Rev. xx. 11.

HOW

will my

heart endure

The terrors of that day;

When earth and heav'n, before the judge, Astonish'd shrink away!

2 But ere that trumpet shakes

The mansions of the dead;
Hark! from the gospel's cheering sound,
What joyful tidings spread!

3 Ye sinners, seek his grace,
Whose wrath ye cannot bear;

Fly to the shelter of his cross,
And find salvation there.

4 So shall that curse remove,
By which the Saviour bled;
And the last awful day shall pour
His blessings on your head.

1

HYMN 33. s. M.

Bridgeport, Wirksworth.

DWIGHT.

The harvest is past. Jer. viii. 20.

SAW, beyond the tomb,
The awful Judge appear,