sense of divine goodness;
or, A complaint of ingratitude.

1 Is this the kind return,
And these the thanks we owe,
Thus to abuse eternal love,
Whence all our blessings flow?

2 TO what a stubborn frame
Has sin reduc'd our mind!
What strange rebellious wretches we,
And God as strangely kind!

3 [On us he bids the sun
Shed his reviving rays,
For us the skies their circles run
To lengthen out our days.

4 The brutes obey their God,
And bow their necks to men,
But we more base, more brutish things
Reject his easy reign.]

5 Turn, turn us, mighty God,
And mould our souls afresh,
Break, sovereign grace, these hearts of stone,
And give us hearts of flesh.

6 Let old ingratitude
Provoke our weeping eyes,
And hourly as new mercies fall
Let hourly thanks arise.

Hymn 2:75.
Spiritual and eternal joys; or,
The beatific sight of Christ.

1 From thee, my God, my joys shall rise,
And run eternal rounds,
Beyond the limits of the skies
And all created bounds.

2 The holy triumphs of my soul
Shall death itself out-brave,
Leave dull mortality behind,
And fly beyond the grave.

3 There, where my blessed Jesus reigns
In heaven's unmeasur'd space,
I'll spend a long eternity
In pleasure and in praise.

4 Millions of years my wondering eyes
Shall o'er thy beauties rove,
And endless ages I'll adore
The glories of thy love.

5 [Sweet Jesus, every smile of thine
Shall fresh endearments bring,
And thousand tastes of new delight
From all thy graces spring.

6 Haste, my beloved, fetch my soul
Up to thy bless'd abode,
Fly, for my spirit longs to see
My Saviour and my God.

Hymn 2:76.
The resurrection and ascension of Christ.

1 Hosanna to the Prince of Light,
That cloth'd himself in clay,
Enter'd the iron gates of death,
And tore the bars away.

2 Death is no more the king of dread
Since our Immanuel rose,
He took the tyrant's sting away,
And spoil'd our hellish foes.

3 See how the Conqueror mounts aloft,
And to his Father flies,
With scars of honour in his flesh,
And triumph in his eyes.

4 There our exalted Saviour reigns,
And scatters blessings down,
Our Jesus fills the middle seat
Of the celestial throne.

5 [Raise your devotion, mortal tongues,
To reach his bless'd abode,
Sweet be the accents of your songs
To our incarnate God.

6 Bright angels, strike your loudest strings,
Your sweetest voices raise,
Let heaven, and all created things,
Sound our Immanuel's praise.]

Hymn 77.