To thee, my Saviour, and my King,
Glad homage let me give;
And stand prepar'd like thee to die,
With thee that I may live.
Praise to God in Prosperity and Adversity. Heb. iii. 17, 18.
1 PRAISE to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days:
Bounteous Source of every joy!
Let thy praise our tongues employ:
2 For the blessings of the field,
For the stores the gardens yield;
For the vine's exalted juice,
For the generous olive's use.
3 Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripen'd grain;
Clouds that drop with fattening dews,
Suns that temp'rate warmth diffuse:]
4 All that spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o'er the smiling land;
All that liberal autumn pours
From her rich o'erflowing stores:
5 These to thee, our God! we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow!
And for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.
6 [Yet should rising whirlwinds tear
From it's stem the ripening ear;
Should the fig-tree's blasted shoot
Drop her green untimely fruit:
7 Should the vine put forth no more,
Nor the olive yield her store:
Though the sickening flocks should fall,
And the herds desert the stall:
8 Should thine alter'd hand restrain
Th' early and the latter rain;
Blast each opening bud of joy,
And the rising year destroy :
9 Still to thee our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise:
And, when every blessing's flown,
Love thee-for thyself alone!]
YOD, our kind Master, merciful as just, Knowing our frame, remembers man is dust:
His ear is open to the softest cry; His grace descends to meet the lifted eye. 2 He reads the language of the silent tear, And sighs are incense from a heart sincere : He marks the dawn of every virtuous aim, And fans the smoking flax into a flame.
3 Oh! set me from all earthly bondage free!
Still every wish that centres not in thee;
Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiet cease,
And point my path to everlasting peace.
HYMN DCXCI.
The same Subject.
IF friendless in the vale of tears I stray,
Where briars wound, and thorns perplex my way,
Still let my steady soul thy goodness see,
And with strong confidence lay hold on thee.
2 In every creature, Lord, I own thy power;
In each event thy providence adore:
Thy promises shall cheer my drooping soul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear controul,
3 Then, when at last I quit this transient scene,
Help me to leave it with a heart serene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And having liv'd to thee, in thee to die.
HYMN DCXCII.
Invitations of Mercy.
OME! said Jesus' sacred voice,
Come and make my paths your choice;
I will guide you to your home;
Weary pilgrim, hither come!
2 Thou, who houseless, sole, forlorn,
Long hast born the proud world's scorn,
Long hast roam'd the barren waste,
Weary pilgrim, hither haste!
3 Ye who tost on beds of pain,
Seek for ease, but seek in vain:
Ye, whose swoln and sleepless eyes
Watch to see the morning rise:
4 Ye by fiercer anguish torn,
In strong remorse for guilt who mourn,
Here repose your heavy care:
A wounded spirit who can bear?
5 Sinner, come! for here is found
Balm that flows for every wound:
Peace that ever shall endure,
Rest eternal, sacred sure.
Christian Friendship. Ps. cxxxiii.
MRS. BARBAULD.
OW blest the sacred tie that binds,
In union sweet, according minds! How swift the heavenly course they run,
Whose hearts, whose faith, whose hopes are
2 To each, the soul of each how dear!
What jealous love, what holy fear!
How doth the generous flame within
Refine from earth, and cleanse from sin!
3 Their streaming eyes together flow
For human guilt and mortal woe;
Their ardent prayers together rise,
Like mingling flames in sacrifice.
4 Together both they seek the place
Where God reveals his awful face:
How high, how strong, their raptures swell,
There's none but kindred souls can tell.
5 Nor shall the glowing flame expire
When nature droops her sickening fire;
Then shall they meet in realms above;
A heaven of joy-because of love.
EHOLD, where, breathing love divine,
Our dying Master stands!
His weeping followers gathering round,
Receive his last commands.
2 From that mild teacher's parting lips
What tender accents fell!
The gentle precept which he gave
Became it's author well.]
3 Blest is the man whose softening heart
Feels all another's pain;
To whom the supplicating eye
Was never rais'd in vain:
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