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 CXIII. 
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 CXXX. 
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 CXXXIII. 
CXXXIII. THE SAME.
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CXXXIII. THE SAME.

Hymn 21.

[O Saviour, whose blood]

O Saviour, whose blood
For sinners hath flow'd,
I believe Thou hast suffer'd, to bring me to God.
My goodness Thou art,
Impute and impart
Thy virtue to quiet, and hallow my heart.
The infinite store
Of Thy merit runs o'er;
For me Thou hast purchased forgiveness, and more.
I believe Thou hast died
To redeem me from pride,
From anger, desire, and all evil beside.
And shall I not live
In full hope to receive
All the graces and blessings the Lamb hath to give?
Can it anger the Lamb,
That I trust in Thy name,
My uttermost Jesus for ever the same?
Does it injure Thy blood,
That I trust, the pure flood
Shall cleanse from all sin, and then waft me to God?
Nay, nay, but I feel
It is after Thy will
My faith, that Thou wilt all my sicknesses heal.

30

The promise is sure
To the helpless and poor,
Their souls, as their bodies, Thou throughly canst cure.
Thou hast heal'd me in part,
And ready Thou art
To fill up my faith, and possess my whole heart.
Thou art just to Thy word,
And I shall be restored,
And holy, and perfect, and pure as my Lord.
In patience I wait,
For my God to create,
And raise me on earth to my former estate.
My faith is not vain,
I am sure to regain
His image, and lord of His creatures to reign.
I to God shall be join'd
In heart and in mind,
And again in my Jesus my paradise find.