2 Who shall adjudge the saints to hell? 'Tis Christ that suffer'd in their stead, And the salvation to fulfil, Behold him rising from the dead. 3 He lives, he lives, and sits above, For ever interceding there: Who shall divide us from his love? Or what should tempt us to despair? 4 Shall persecution, or distress, Famine, or sword, or nakedness? He that hath lov'd us bears us thro', And makes us more than conquerors too. 5 Faith hath an overcoming power, It triumphs in the dying hour; Christ is our life, our joy, our hope, Nor can we sink with such a prop. 6 Not all that men on earth can do, Nor powers on high, nor powers below, Shall cause his mercy to remove, Or wean our hearts from Christ our love. Hymn 1:15. Our own weakness, and Christ our strength, 2 Cor. 12. 7 9 10. 1 Let me but hear my Saviour say, "Strength shall be equal to thy day," Then I rejoice in deep distress, Leaning on all-sufficient Grace. 2 I glory in infirmity, That Christ's own power may rest on me; When I am weak, then am I strong, Grace is my shield, and Christ my song. 3 I can do all things, or can bear All sufferings, if my Lord be there; Sweet pleasures mingle with the pains, While his left hand my head sustains. 4 But if the Lord be once withdrawn, And we attempt the work alone, When new temptations spring and rise We find how great our weakness is. 5 [So Samson, when his hair was lost, Met the Philistines to his cost; Shook his vain limbs with sad surprise, Made feeble fight, and lost his eyes.] Hymn 1:16. Hosanna to Christ, Matt. 21. 9. Luke 19. 38 40. 1 Hosanna to the royal Son Of David's ancient line, His natures two, his person one, Mysterious and divine. 2 The root of David here we find, And offspring is the same; Eternity and time are join'd In our Immanuel's name. 3 Bless'd he that comes to wretched men With peaceful news from heaven; Hosannas of the highest strain To Christ the Lord be given. 4 Let mortals ne'er refuse to take Th' hosanna on their tongues, Lest rocks and stones should rise, and break Their silence into songs. Hymn 1:17. Victory over death, 1 Cor. 15, 55 &c. 1 O for an overcoming faith To cheer my dying hours, To triumph o'er the monster Death, And all his frightful powers. 2 Joyful with all the strength I have My quivering lips should sing, "Where is thy boasted victory, Grave? And where the monster's sting?" 3 If sin be pardon'd I'm secure, Death hath no sting beside; The law gives sin its damning power, But Christ, my ransom, died. 4 Now to the God of victory Immortal thanks be paid, Who makes us conquerors while we die, Thro' Christ our living head. Hymn 1:18. Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord, Rev. 14. 13. 1 Hear what the voice from heaven proclaims, For all the pious dead, Sweet is the savour of their names, And soft their sleeping bed. 2 They die in Jesus, and are bless'd; How kind their slumbers are! From sufferings and from sins releas'd, And freed from every snare.