6 Tremble, my soul, and mourn for grief, That such a foe should seize thy breast; Fly to thy Lord for quick relief; O! may he slay this treacherous guest.

Then to thy throne, victorious King,
Then to thy throne our shouts shall rise,
Thine everlasting arm we sing,
For sin the monster bleeds and dies.

[1] Job 38:7. [2] Isaiah 14:12.

Hymn 2:25. 
Complaining of spiritual sloth.

1 My drowsy powers, why sleep ye so? 
Awake, my sluggish soul! 
Nothing has half thy work to do,
Yet nothing’s half so dull.

2 The little ants for one poor grain
Labour, and tug, and strive,
Yet we who have a heaven t’ obtain,
How negligent we live!

3 We for whose sake all nature stands
And stars their courses move;
We for whose guard the angel bands
Come flying from above;

4 We for whom God the Son came down,
And labour’d for our good,
How careless to secure that crown
He purchas’d with his blood!

5 Lord, shall we lie so sluggish still,
And never act our parts? 
Come, holy Dove, from th’ heavenly hill,
And sit and warm our hearts.

6 Then shall our active spirits move,
Upward our souls shall rise: 
With hands of faith and wings of love
We’ll fly and take the prize.

Hymn 2:26. 
God invisible.

1 Lord, we are blind, we mortals blind,
We can’t behold thy bright abode;
O ’tis beyond a creature-mind
To glance a thought half-way to God.

2 Infinite leagues beyond the sky
The great Eternal reigns alone,
Where neither wings nor soul can fly,
Nor angels climb the topless throne.

3 The Lord of glory builds his seat
Of gems insufferably bright,
And lays beneath his sacred feet
Substantial beams of gloomy night.

4 Yet, glorious Lord, thy gracious eyes
Look thro’, and cheer us from above;
Beyond our praise thy grandeur flies,
Yet we adore, and yet we love.

Hymn 2:27. 
Praise ye him, all his angels, Psalm 148. 2.

1 God! the eternal awful Name
That the whole heavenly army fears,
That shakes the wide creation’s frame,
And Satan trembles when he hears.

2 Like flames of fire his servants are,
And light surrounds his dwelling place;
But, O ye fiery flames, declare
The brighter glories of his face.

3 ’Tis not for such poor worms as we
To speak so infinite a thing,
But your immortal eyes survey
The beauties of your sovereign King.

4 Tell how he shews his smiling face,
And clothes all heaven in bright array;
Triumph and joy run thro’ the place,
And songs eternal as the day.

5 Speak, (for you feel his burning love) What zeal it spreads thro’ all your frame:  That sacred fire dwells all above, For we on earth have lost the name.

6 [Sing of his power and justice too,
That infinite right-hand of his
That vanquish’d Satan and his crew,
And thunder drove them down from bliss.