Hymn 2:153. 
The distemper, folly, and madness of sin.

1 Sin like a venomous disease
Infects our vital blood;
The only balm is sovereign grace,
And the physician, God.

2 Our beauty and our strength are fled,
And we draw near to death;
But Christ the Lord recalls the dead
With his almighty breath.

3 Madness by nature reigns within,
The passions burn and rage;
Till God’s own Son with skill divine
The inward fire assuage.

4 [We lick the dust, we grasp the wind,
And solid good despise;
Such is the folly of the mind,
Till Jesus makes us wise.

5 We give our souls the wounds they feel,
We drink the poisonous gall,
And rush with fury down to hell;
But heaven prevents the fall.]

6 [The man possess’d amongst the tombs,
Cuts his own flesh and cries;
He foams, and raves, till Jesus comes,
And the foul spirit flies.]

Hymn 2:154. 
Self-righteousness insufficient.

1 “Where are the mourners, [1] (saith the Lord)
“That wait and tremble at my word,
“That walk in darkness all the day? 
“Come, make my name your trust and stay.

2 ["No works nor duties of your own
“Can for the smallest sin atone;
“The robes [2] that nature may provide
“Will not your least pollutions hide.

3 “The softest couch that nature knows
“Can give the conscience no repose: 
“Look to my righteousness, and live;
“Comfort and peace are mine to give.]

4 “Ye sons of pride that kindle coals “With your own hands to warm your souls, “Walk in the light of your own fire, “Enjoy the sparks that ye desire.

5 “This is your portion at my hands;
“Hell waits you with her iron bands,
“Ye shall lie down in sorrow there,
“In death, in darkness, and despair.”

[1] Isaiah 1:10-11. [2] Isaiah 28:20.

Hymn 2:155. 
Christ our passover.

1 Lo the destroying angel flies
To Pharaoh’s stubborn land: 
The pride and flower of Egypt dies
By his vindictive hand.

2 He pass’d the tents of Jacob o’er,
Nor pour’d the wrath divine;
He saw the blood on every door,
And bless’d the peaceful sign.

3 Thus th’ appointed Lamb must bleed
To break th’ Egyptian yoke;
Thus Israel is from bondage freed,
And ’scapes the angel’s stroke.

4 Lord, if my heart were sprinkled too
With blood so rich as thine,
Justice no longer would pursue
This guilty soul of mine.

5 Jesus our passover was slain,
And has at once procur’d
Freedom from Satan’s heavy chain,
And God’s avenging sword.

Hymn 2:156. 
Presumption and despair;
or, Satan’s various temptations.

1 I hate the tempter and his charms,
I hate his flattering breath;
The serpent takes a thousand forms
To cheat our souls to death.

2 He feeds our hopes with airy dreams,
Or kills with slavish fear;
And holds us still in wide extremes,
Presumption, or despair.