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342 1 Too many, Lord, abuse thy grace, In this licentious day ; And while they boast they see thy face, They turn their own away.

2 Thy book displays a gracious light. That can the blind restore ; But these are dazzled by the sight, And blinded still the more.

3 The pardon such presume upon, They do not beg but steal ; And when they plead it at thy throne, Oh! where s the Spirit s seal ?

4 Was it for this, ye lawless tribe, The dear Redeemer bled ? Is this the grace the saints imbibe From Christ the living head ?

5 Ah, Lord ! we know thy chosen few Are fed with heavenly fare ; But these, the wretched husks they chew Proclaim them what they are.

6 The liberty our hearts implore, Is not to live in sin ; But still to wait at Wisdom s door, Till Mercy calls us in.

1 WHAT thousands never knew the road ! What thousands hate it when tis known ! None but the chosen tribes of God Will seek or choose it for their own.

2 A thousand ways in ruin end, One only leads to joys on high ; By that my willing steps ascend, Pleased with a journey to the sky.