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ARLINGTON. C. M.

T. A. ARNE.

Amazing grace! how sweet the sound That saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found-Was blind, but now I see.

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AMAZING grace! how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!

I once was lost, but now am found

Was blind, but now I see.

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THERE is a fountain filled with blood,

Drawn from Immanuel's veins;

And sinners, plunged beneath that flood,
Lose all their guilty stains.

2 'T was grace that taught my heart to fear, 2 The dying thief rejoiced to see

And grace my fears relieved;

How precious did that grace appear,

The hour I first believed!

That fountain in his day;

And there may I, though vile as he,

Wash all my sins away.

3 Through many dangers, toils, and snares, 3 Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood I have already come;

'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home.

4 Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail And mortal life shall cease,

I shall possess within the vail

A life of joy and peace.

5 The earth shall soon dissolve like snow, The sun forbear to shine;

But God, who called me here below,

Will be for ever mine.

Shall never lose its power,

Till all the ransomed church of God

Be saved to sin no more.

4 E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be, till I die.

5 Then in a nobler, sweeter song,
I'll sing thy power to save,

When this poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.

ROGET. C. M.

John Newton.

Salvation!-oh, the joyful sound! 'Tis pleasure to our ears; A sovereign balm for every wound, A

William Cowper.

J. BARNBY.

cordial for our fears.

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GLASGOW. C. M.

G. F. ROOT.

Great God, when I approach thy throne, And all thy glory see; This is my stay, and this a-lone, That Je-sus died for me.

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GREAT God, when I approach thy throne, And all thy glory see;

This is my stay, and this alone,

That Jesus died for me.

2 How can a soul condemned to die,
Escape the just decree?
Helpless, and full of sin am I,
But Jesus died for me.

3 Burdened with sin's oppressive chain,
Oh, how can I get free?
No peace can all my efforts gain,
But Jesus died for me.

4 And, Lord, when I behold thy face,
This must be all my plea;
Save me by thy almighty grace,
For Jesus died for me.

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JESUS, and didst thou leave the sky,

To bear our griefs and woes?

And didst thou bleed, and groan and die, For thy rebellious foes?

2 Well might the heavens with wonder view A love so strange as thine!

No thought of angels ever knew
Compassion so divine!

3 Is there a heart that will not bend
To thy divine control?
Descend, O sovereign love, descend,
And melt that stubborn soul.

4 Oh! may our willing hearts confess
Thy sweet, thy gentle sway;
Glad captives of thy matchless grace,
Thy righteous rule obey.

Anne Steele.

W. H. Bathurst.

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LENOX. H. M.

J. EDSON.

A-rise, my soul,a-rise! Shake offthy guilty fears; The bleeding Sacrifice In my be-half appears;

Before the throne my Surety stands, Before the throne my Surety stands: My name is written on his hands.

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ARISE, my soul, arise!

Shake off thy guilty fears;

The bleeding Sacrifice

In my behalf appears;

Before the throne my Surety stands:

My name is written on his hands.

2 He ever lives above,

For me to intercede,

His all-redeeming love,

His precious blood to plead;

His blood atoned for all our race,

And sprinkles now the throne of grace.

3 My God is reconciled;

His pardoning voice I hear;
He owns me for his child;

I can no longer fear;

With confidence I now draw nigh,
And Father, Abba, Father, cry.

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Charles Wesley.

BLOW ye the trumpet, blow;—
The gladly solemn sound;-
Let all the nations know,

To earth's remotest bound,
The year of jubilee is come:
Return, ye ransomed sinners, home.

2 Jesus, our great High Priest, Hath full atonement made; Ye weary spirits, rest;

Ye mournful souls, be glad:

The year of jubilee is come: Return, ye ransomed sinners, home.

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YE saints, your music bring,
Attuned to sweetest sound,
Strike every trembling string,

Till earth and heaven resound; The triumphs of the cross we sing; Awake, ye saints, each joyful string.

2 The cross, the cross alone,
Subdued the powers of hell;
Like lightning from his throne

The prince of darkness fell;
The triumphs of the cross we sing;
Awake, ye saints, each joyful string.

3 The cross hath power to save
From all the foes that rise;
The cross hath made the grave

A passage to the skies;

The triumphs of the cross we sing; Awake, ye saints, each joyful string.

Andrew Reed

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people's cause to plead: He stands in heav'n their great High Priest, And bears their names upon his breast.

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THY works, not mine, O Christ,
Speak gladness to this heart;
They tell me all is done;

They bid my fear depart:

To whom, save thee, who canst alone
For sin atone, Lord, shall I flee?

2 Thy tears, not mine, O Christ,
Have wept my guilt away,
And turned this night of mine
Into a blessed day:

To whom, save thee, who canst alone
For sin atone, Lord, shall I flee?

3 Thy wounds, not mine, O Christ,
Can heal my bruiséd soul;
Thy stripes, not mine, contain

The balm that makes me whole:
To whom, save thee, who canst alone
For sin atone, Lord, shall I flee?
4 Thy death, not mine, O Christ,
Has paid the ransom due;
Ten thousand deaths like mine

Would have been all too few: To whom, save thee, who canst alone For sin atone, Lord, shall I flee?

Horatius Bonar.

NAUMANN. C. M. 51.

Arr. fr. NAUMANN.

Eternal Light! e ter-nal Light! How pure the soul must be, When,placed within thy

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ETERNAL Light! eternal Light!
How pure the soul must be,

When, placed within thy searching sight,
It shrinks not, but, with calm delight
Can live, and look on thee!

2 The spirits that surround thy throne,
May bear the burning bliss;
But that is surely theirs alone,
Since they have never, never known
A fallen world like this.

3 There is a way for man to rise

To that sublime abode:

An offering and a sacrifice,
A Holy Spirit's energies,

An advocate with God.

4 These, these prepare us for the sight
Of holiness above:

The sons of ignorance and night
May dwell in the eternal Light,
Through the eternal Love!

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Thomas Binney.

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2 Thou didst the gospel-trumpet sound O'er all the world afar;

And summon from their sleep profound The dead, who lay in darkness round, To hail the Morning Star.

3 Thine be all praise for evermore, From all salvation's heirs;

Thy goodness, truth, and love, and power, Let all created worlds adore

In holy hymns and prayers.

4 O thou, who teachest us to place
In thee our hope and trust,
The stains of former guilt efface,
Confirm the innocent in grace,
And glorify the just.

Edward Caswall, tr.

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