Songs XIV and XXX
A Song of Praise for Redemption

O that I had an Angel's Tongue, 
    That I might loudly sing, 
The Wonders of Redeeming Love, 
    To Thee, my God and King! 
But Man, who at the Gates of Hell 
    Did Pale and Speechless lie, 
Must find a Tongue, and Time to speak, 
    Or else the Stones will cry.

Let the Redeemed of the Lord 
    Their Thankful Voices raise: 
Can we be dumb whilst Angels sing 
    Our great Redeemer's Praise? 
Come let us join with Angels then, 
    Glory to God on High; 
Peace upon Earth, Good-Will to Men, 
    Amen, Amen, say I.

Poor Adam's Race was Satan's Prey, 
    And Dust the Serpent's Food: 
We that were doom'd to be devour'd, 
    Naked and Trembling stood. . 
A Wise Eternal Pity then 
    Did helpless Men befriend; 
Our Help did in God's Bosom lie, 
   And thence it did ascend.

Love cloathed with Humility, 
    Built here an House of Clay, 
In which it dwelt, and rescu'd Man; 
    The Devil lost his Prey. 
The spiteful Serpent bruis'd Christ's Heel, 
    But then Christ brake his Head, 
And left him nail'd upon the Cross, 
    On which his Blood was shed.

Sing and Triumph in boundless Grace, 
    Which thus hath set thee free; 
Extol with shouts, my saved Soul, 
    Thy Saviour's Love to thee. 
Give endless Thanks to God, and say, 
    What Love was this in Thee, 
That thou hast not withheld thy Son, 
    Thine only Son from me! 
  
What were Ten Thousand Worlds to him, 
    Thine Image and Delight? 
Had we been all cast down to Hell, 
    Justice had had its Right. 
Thy Glory might have been distrain'd, 
    Our Torments should express 
Thy Pureness, Justice, Might, and Truth, 
    And Everlastingness.

Thus, Lord, thy dreadful Attributes 
    Man might have serv'd to prove; 
Thy Glorious Angels would have sung 
    The Riches of thy Love. 
Would'st thou have active Worshippers, 
    Besides the Angels Choir? 
Millions had issu'd at thy Word, 
    As Sparks arise from Fire.

Man's Room had quickly been supply'd, 
    For, Lord, at thy Command, 
A New Creation should appear, 
    Thy Grace would make them stand. 
Or, would'st thou shew thy Pity, Lord 1 
    Thou might'st have looked then 
On Fallen Angels, Fallen Stars, 
    And not on Fallen Men.

But Fallen Angels must be left, 
    And Fallen Men must rise: 
For this the Son of God must fall 
    A Bloody Sacrifice. 
Thy Deep and Glorious Counsels, Lord, 
    With Trembling I adore: 
Blessed, thrice blessed be my God, 
    Blessed for evermore.
A Song of Praise for the Hope of Glory 

I sojourn in a Vale of Tears, 
    Alas, how can I sing! 
My Harp doth on the Willows hang, 
    Dis-tun'd in every String. 
My Music is a Captive's Chains, 
    Harsh Sounds my Ears do fill; 
How shall I sing sweet Sion's Song 
 On this side Sion's Hill?

Yet lo! I hear a joyful Sound, 
    Surely I quickly come; 
Each Word much Sweetness doth distil, 
    Like a full Honey-Comb. 
And dost thou come, my dearest Lord? 
    And dost thou surely come? 
And dost thou surely quickly come? 
    Methinks I am at home.

Come then, my dearest, dearest Lord, 
    My sweetest, surest Friend; 
Come; for I loath these Kedar Tents, 
    The fiery Chariots send. 
What have I here? my Thoughts and Joys 
    Are all pack'd up and gone; 
My eag'er Soul would follow them 
    To thine Eternal Throne.

What have I in this barren Land? 
    My Jesus is not here; 
Mine Eyes will ne' er be blest, until 
    My Jesus doth appear. 
My Jesus is gone up to Heaven 
    To get a Place for me: 
For 'tis his Will that where he is, 
    There should his Servants be.

Canaan I view from Pisgah's Top, 
    Of Canaan's Grapes I taste; 
My Lord, who sends unto me here, 
    Will send for me at last. 
I have a God that changeth not, 
    Why should I be perplext? 
My God that owns me in this World, 
    Will own me in the next.

Go fearless then, my Soul, with God 
    Into another Room: 
Thou, who hast walked with him here, 
    Go see thy God at Home. 
View Death with a believing Eye, 
    It hath an Angel's Face: 
And this kind Angel will prefer 
    Thee to an Angel's Place,

The Grave is but a Fining-Pot 
    Unto be1ieving Eyes: 
For there the Flesh shall lose its Dross, 
    And like the Sun shall rise. 
The World which I have known too well, 
    Hath mock'd me with its Lies: 
How gladly could I leave behind 
    Its vexing Vanities?

My dearest Friends they dwell above, 
    Them will I go to see; 
And all my Friends in Christ below 
    Will soon come after me. 
Fear not the Trumps Earth-rending Sound, 
    Dread not the Day of Doom; 
For he that is to be thy Judge, 
    Thy Saviour is become.

Blest be my God that gives me Light, 
    Who in the Dark did grope: 
Blest be my God, the God of Love, 
    Who causeth me to hope. 
Here's the Word's Signet, Comfort's Staff, 
    And here is Grace's Chain: 
By these thy Pledges, Lord, I know; 
    My Hopes are not in vain.