On the Death of Thomas Beard, Hymn 3

Being of beings, God of love,
High-seated on Thy dazzling throne,
Pity, and draw me from above,
Raise, and bring home Thy banish'd son.

I am not as from Thee I came:
Out of my second chaos call:
Fallen alas! from Thee I am;
O God, redeem me from my fall.

Laid in the lowest deep of sin,
Enslaved to vain and base desires,
Sensibly dead, and dark within,
Fit fuel for infernal fires;

An outcast from Thy blissful face,
Broke off from God, and scatter'd wide,
Most fallen of that fallen race,
For whicn Thy Only Son hath died.

Father of mercies, hear my cry,
This, only this is all my plea,
Jesus the Just hath bow'd the sky,
Thy Son hath died, hath died for me.

Jesus hath undertook my cause,
Finish'd the great redeeming plan,
Humbled to death my Saviour was,
And stoop'd to raise His creature man.

By love, mere pitying love, inclined,
He caught my nature in its fall,
A common Head of all mankind,
Assumed the flesh, and guilt of all.

Father, Thou know'st He bought my peace,
My life, and health, and liberty,
My present, and eternal bliss;
He purchased all Thou art for me.

Assured Thy fulness to receive,
With earnest, calm desire I wait.
For all Thou hast in Christ to give,
The glories of my first estate.

I trust Thy image to regain,
Whate'er Thou hast to sinners given,
All, all I shall in Christ obtain,
Pardon, and paradise, and heaven.