HYMNS.
119
Ten thouſand differing lips ſhall join
To hail this welcome morn,
Which ſcatters bleſſings from its wings,
To nations yet unborn.
Jesus, the friend of human kind,
With ſtrong compaſſion mov'd,
Deſcended like a pitying God,
To ſave the ſouls he lov'd.
The powers of darkneſs leagued in vain
To bind his ſoul in death;
He ſhook their kingdom when he fell,
With his expiring breath.
Not long the toils of hell could keep
The hope of Judah's line;
Corruption never could take hold
On aught ſo much divine.
And
