Hymn.
Comfort derived from God's presence,
1 TALK with us, LORD, Thyself reveal,

While here o'er earth we rove;
Speak to our hearts, and let us feel

The kindling of Thy love.
2. With Thee conversing, we forget

All time, and toil, and care:
Labour is rest, and pain is sweet,

If Thou, my God, art here.
3 Here then, my GOD, vouchsafe to stay,

And bid my heart rejoice;
My bounding heart shall own Thy sway,

And echo to Thy voice.
4 Thou callest me to seek Thy face:

'Tis all I wish to seek ;
T' attend the whispers of Thy grace,

And hear Thee inly speak.
5 Let this my ev'ry hour employ,

'Till I Thy glory see!
Enter into my Master's joy,

And find my heav'n in Thee.

Wymn.

Enjoyment of Christ.
i Far from my thoughts, vain world, be gone,

Let my religious hours alone:
Fain would my eyes my SAVIOUR see ;

I wait a visit, LORD, from Thee.
2 My heart grows warm with holy fire,

And kindles with a pure desire;
Come, my dear Jesus, from above,
And feed my soul with heav'nly love.

3 Bless'd Jesus, what delicious fare !

How sweet Thy entertainments are!
Never did angels taste above

Redeeming grace, and dying love.
4 Hail, great IMMANUEL, all divine,

In Thee Thy FATHER's glories shine;
Thou brightest, sweetest, fairest one,
That eyes have seen, or angels known.

Hymn. Longing to praise Christ better. 1 LORD, when my thoughts with wonder roll

O'er the sharp sorrows of Thy soul,
And read my Maker's broken laws

Repair'd and honour'd by the cross; 2 When I behold death, hell, and sin,

Vanquish'd by that dear blood of Thine,
And see the man that groan’d and died

Sit glorious by His FATHER's side; 3 My passions rise and soar above,

I'm wing’d with faith, and fir'd with love:
Fain would I reach eternal things,

And learn the notes that Gabriel sings.
4 But my heart fails, my tongue complains,

For want of their immortal strains ;
And in such humble notes as these

Must fall below Thy victories.
5 Well, the kind minute must appear

When we shall leave these bodies here,
These clogs of clay; and mount on high,
To join the songs above the sky.

Hymn.

Hidden life of a Christian.

1 O HAPPY soul! that lives on high,

While men lie grov'lling here! His hopes are fix'd above the sky,

And faith forbids his fear.

2 His conscience knows no secret stings,

While peace and joy combine
To form a life whose holy springs

Are hidden and divine.

3 He waits in secret on his God;

His God in secret sees :
Let earth be all in arms abroad,

He dwells in heav'nly peace.

4 His pleasures rise from things unseen,

Beyond this world and time,
Where neither eyes nor ears have been,

Nor thoughts of sinners climb.

5 He wants no pomp nor royal throne

To raise His figure here;
Content and pleas'd to live unknown,
Till Christ His life appear.

6 He looks to heav'n's eternal hill

To meet that glorious day;
But patient waits His SAVIOUR's will

To fetch His soul away.

Lyinn.

Heavenly joy on earth. 1

COME, we that love the LORD,

And let our joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet accord,

And thus surround the throne, 2 The sorrows of the mind

Be banish'd from the place!
Religion never was design'd

To make our pleasures less.
Let those refuse to sing

That never knew our God;
But servants of the heav'nly King

May speak their joys abroad.
This awful God is our's,

Our FATHER, and our love ;
He shall send down His heav'nly pow'rs

To carry us above.
5 There we shall see His face,

And never, never sin;
There from the rivers of His

grace
Drink endless pleasures in.
Yes, and before we rise

To that immortal state,
The thoughts of such amazing bliss

Should constant joys create. 7 The men of grace have found

Glory begun below;
Celestial fruits on earthly ground

From faith and hope may grow.

8 The hill of Sion yields

A thousand sacred sweets,
Before we reach the heav'nly fields,

Or walk the golden streets. 9 Then let our songs abound,

And ev'ry tear be dry;
We're marching thro' IMMANUEL's ground

To fairer worlds on high.

Lymn.
Christ precious to the Believer.
1 JESUS, I love Thy charming Name,

"Fis music to my ear;
Fain would I sound it out so loud,

That earth and heav'n might hear. 2 Yes, Thou art precious to my soul,

My transport and my trust; Jewels to Thee are gaudy toys,

And gold is sordid dust. 3 All my capacious pow'rs can wish,

In Thee doth richly meet; Nor to my eyes is light so dear,

Nor friendship half so sweet.
4 Thy grace shall dwell upon my heart,

And shed it's fragrance there;
The noblest balm of all it's wounds,

The cordial of it's care.
5 I'll speak the honours of Thy Name,

With my last lab'ring breath;
And, dying, clasp Thee in my arms,

The antidote of death,