Hymn 2:19. 
Our frail bodies, and God our preserver.

1 Let others boast how strong they be,
Nor death, nor danger fear;
But we’ll confess, O Lord, to thee,
What feeble things we are.

2 Fresh as the grass our bodies stand,
And flourish bright and gay,
A blasting wind sweeps o’er the land,
And fades the grass away.

3 Our life contains a thousand springs,
And dies if one be gone;
Strange! that a harp of thousand strings
Should keep in tune so long.

4 But ’tis our God supports our frame,
The God that built us first;
Salvation to th’ Almighty Name,
That rear’d us from the dust.

5 [He spoke, and straight our hearts and brains
In all their motions rose;
“Let blood, (said he) flow round the veins,”
And round the veins it flows.

6 While we have breath, or use our tongues,
Our Maker we’ll adore;
His Spirit moves our heaving lungs
Or they would breathe no more.]

Hymn 2:20. 
Backslidings and returns; or, The
inconstancy of our love.

1 Why is my heart so far from thee,
My God, my chief delight? 
Why are my thoughts no more by day
With thee, no more by night?

2 [Why should my foolish passions rove? 
Where can such sweetness be
As I have tasted in thy love;
As I have found in thee?]

3 When my forgetful soul renews
The savour of thy grace,
My heart presumes I cannot lose
The relish all my days.

4 But ere one fleeting hour is pass’d,
The flattering world employs
Some sensual bait to seize my taste,
And to pollute my joys.

5 [Trifles of nature or of art
With fair deceitful charms
Intrude upon my thoughtless heart,
And thrust thee from my arms.]

6 Then I repent and vex my soul
That I should leave thee so,
Where will those wild affections roll
That let a Saviour go?

7 [Sin’s promis’d joys are turn’d to pain,
And I am drown’d in grief;
But my dear Lord returns again,
He flies to my relief.

8 Seizing my soul with sweet surprise
He draws with loving bands;
Divine compassion in his eyes,
And pardon in his hands.]

9 [Wretch that I am to wander thus
In chase of false delight! 
Let me be fasten’d to thy cross,
Rather than lose thy sight.]

10 [Make haste, my days, to reach the goal,
And bring my heart to rest
On the dear centre of my soul,
My God, my Saviour’s breast.]

Hymn 2:21. 
A song of praise to God the Redeemer.

1 Let the old heathens tune their song
Of great Diana and of Jove;
But the sweet theme that moves my tongue
Is my Redeemer and his love.

2 Behold a God descends and dies
To save my soul from gaping hell;
How the black gulf where Satan lies
Yawn’d to receive me when I fell!

3 How justice frown’d and vengeance stood
To drive me down to endless pain! 
But the great Son propos’d his blood,
And heavenly wrath grew mild again.