3 Yet why, my soul, why these complaints? Still while he frowns his bowels move; Still on his heart he bears his saints, And feels their sorrows and his love. 4 My name is printed on his breast; His book of life contains my name; I'd rather have it there impress'd Than in the bright records of fame. 5 When the last fire burns all things here, Those letters shall securely stand, And in the Lamb's fair book appear, Writ by th' eternal Father's hand. 6 Now shall my minutes smoothly run, Whil'st here I wait my Father's will; My rising and my setting sun Roll gently up and down the hill. Hymn 2:51. God the Son equal with the Father. 1 Bright King of Glory, dreadful God! Our spirits bow before thy seat, To thee we lift an humble thought, And worship at thine awful feet. 2 [Thy power hath form'd, thy wisdom sways All nature with a sovereign word; And the bright world of stars obeys The will of their superior Lord.] 3 [Mercy and truth unite in one, And smiling sit at thy right-hand; Eternal justice guards thy throne, And vengeance waits thy dread command.] 4 A thousand seraphs strong and bright Stand round the glorious Deity; But who amongst the sons of light Pretends comparison with thee? 5 Yet there is one of human frame, Jesus, array'd in flesh and blood, Thinks it no robbery to claim A full equality with God. 6 Their glory shines with equal beams; Their essence is for ever one, Tho' they are known by different names The Father God, and God the Son. 7 Then let the name of Christ our King With equal honours be ador'd; His praise let every angel sing, And all the nations own their Lord. Hymn 2:52. Death dreadful or delightful. 1 Death! 'tis a melancholy day To those that have no God, When the poor soul is forc'd away To seek her last abode. 2 In vain to heaven she lifts her eyes, But guilt, a heavy chain, Still drags her downward from the skies To darkness, fire, and pain. 3 Awake and mourn, ye heirs of hell, Let stubborn sinners fear, You must be driven from earth, and dwell A long for-ever there. 4 See how the pit gapes wide for you, And flashes in your face, And thou, my soul, look downwards too, And sing recovering grace. 5 He is a God of sovereign love That promis'd heaven to me, And taught my thoughts to soar above, Where happy spirits be. 6 Prepare me, Lord, for thy right-hand, Then come the joyful day, Come death, and some celestial band, To bear my soul away. Hymn 2:53. The pilgrimage of the saints; or, Earth and heaven. 1 Lord! what a wretched land is this That yields us no supply! No cheering fruits no wholesome trees, Nor streams of living joy! 2 But pricking thorns thro' all the ground And mortal poisons grow, And all the rivers that are found With dangerous waters flow. 3 Yet the clear path to thine abode Lies thro' this horrid land; Lord! we would keep the heavenly road, And run at thy command.