CCCLXII. A Morning Hymn, to be used at awaking and rising.
1 AWAKE, my soul, to meet the day;
Unfold thy drowsy eyes,
And burst the ponderous chain that loads
Thine active faculties.
2 God's guardian-shield was round me spread
In my defenceless sleep:
Let him have all my waking hours,
Who doth my slumbers keep.
3 (The work of each immortal soul
Attentive care demands;
Think then what painful labours wait
The faithful pastor's hands.)
4 My moments fly with winged pace,
And swift my hours are hurl'd;
And death with rapid march comes on
To unveil the eternal world.
5 I for this hour must give account
Before God's awful throne:
Let not this hour neglected pass,
As thousands more have done.
6 Pardon, O God, my former sloth,
And arm my soul with grace;
As, rising now, I seal my vows
To prosecute thy ways.
7 Bright Sun of Righteousness, arise;
Thy radiant beams display,
And guide my dark bewilder'd soul
To everlasting day.
CCCLXIII. An Evening Hymn, to be used when composing one's
1 INTERVAL of grateful shade,
Welcome to my weary head!
Welcome slumbers to mine eyes,
Tir'd with glaring vanities!
My great Master still allows
Needful periods of repose.
By my heavenly Father blest,
Thus I give my powers to rest;
Heavenly Father! gracious name!
Night and day his love the same:
Far be each suspicious thought,
Every anxious care forgot:
Thou, my ever-bounteous God,
Crown'st my days with various good:
Thy kind eye, that cannot sleep,
These defenceless hours shall keep :
Blest vicissitude to me!
Day and night I'm still with thee.
2 What though downy slumbers flee,
Strangers to my couch and me!
Sleepless well I know to rest,
Lodg'd within my Father's breast.
While the empress of the night
Scatters mild her silver light;
While the vivid planets stray
Various through their mystic way;
While the stars unnumber'd roll
Round the ever-constant pole;
Far above the spangled skies
All my soul to God shall rise;
'Midst the silence of the night
Mingling with those angels bright,
Whose harmonious voices raise
Ceaseless love and ceaseless praise
Through the throng his gentle ear
Shall my tuneless accents hear:
From on high doth He impart
Secret comfort to my heart.
He in these serenest hours
Guides my intellectual powers,
And his Spirit doth diffuse,
Sweeter far than midnight dews;
Lifting all my thoughts above
On the wings of faith and love.
Blest alternative to me,
Thus to sleep, or wake, with thee!
3 What if death my sleep invade!
Should I be of death afraid?
Whilst encircled by thine arm,
Death may strike, but cannot harm.
What if beams of opening day
Shine around my breathless clay!
Brighter visions from on high
Shall regale my mental eye.
Tender friends awhile may mourn
Me from their embraces torn ;
Dearer better friends I have
In the realms beyond the grave.
See the guardian-angels nigh
Wait to waft my soul on high!
See the golden gates display'd!
See the crown to grace my head!
See a flood of sacred light,
Which no more shall yield to night!
Transitory world, farewel!
Jesus calls with him to dwell.
With thy heavenly presence blest,
Death is life, and labour rest.
Welcome sleep, or death to me,
Still secure, for still with thee.
CCCXLIV. On Recovery from Sickness, during which, much of the divine Favour had been experienced.
1 MY God, thy service well demands
The remnant of my days;
Why was this fleeting breath renew'd,
But to renew thy praise?
2 Thine arms of everlasting love
Did this weak frame sustain,
When life was hovering o'er the grave,
And nature sunk with pain.
3 Thou, when the pains of death were felt,
Didst chase the fears of hell;
And teach my pale and quivering lips
Thy matchless grace to tell.
4 Calmly I bow'd my fainting head
On thy dear faithful breast;
Pleas'd to obey my Father's call
To his eternal rest.
5 Into thy hands, my Saviour-God,
Did I my soul resign,
In firm dependence on that truth,
Which made salvation mine.
6 Back from the borders of the grave
At thy command I come:
Nor would I urge a speedier flight
To my celestial home.
7 Where thou determin'st mine abode,
There would I chuse to be;
For in thy presence death is life,
And earth is heaven with thee.
CCCLXV. The last Words of David. 2 Samuel xxiii. 1—8*.
1 THUS hath the son of Jesse said,
When Israel's God had rais'd his head
To high imperial sway:
Struck with his last poetic fire,
Zion's sweet Psalmist tun'd his lyre.
To this harmonious lay.
2 Thus dictates Israel's sacred rock:
Thus hath the God of Jacob spoke
By my responsive tongue :
Behold the Just One over men
Commencing his religious reign,
Great subject of my song!
3 So gently shines with genial ray
The unclouded lamp of rising day,
And cheers the tender flowers,
When midnight's soft diffusive rain
Hath bless'd the gardens and the plain
With kind refreshing showers.
4 Shall not my house this honour boast?
My soul the eternal covenant trust,
Well-order'd still and sure?
There all my hopes and wishes meet:
In death I call its blessings sweet,
And feel its bond secure.
5 The sons of Belial shall not spring,
Who spurn at heaven's anointed King,
And scorn his high command:
* Agreeable to the ingenious metrical version of the learned Dr. Richard Grey.
Though wide the briars infest the ground,
And the sharp-pointed thorns around
Defy a tender hand;
6 A dreadful warrior shall appear
With iron arms, and massy spear,
And tear them from their place:
Touch'd with the lightning of his ire,
At once they kindle into fire,
And vanish in the blaze.
CCCLXVI. A Military Ode. Psalm cxlix.
Probably composed by David, to be sung when his Army was marching
out to War against the Remnant of the devoted Nations of Canaan,
and first went up in solemn Procession to the House of God at
Jerusalem, there, as it were, to consecrate the Arms, which he put
into their Hands. The Beds referred to, Ver. 5, where probably
the Couches, on which they lay at the Banquet attending their Sa-
crifices; which gives a noble Sense to a Passage, on any other In-
terpretation hardly intelligible.
10 PRAISE ye the Lord, prepare a new song,
And let all his saints in full consort join:
Ye tribes all assemble the feast to prolong,
In solemn procession with music divine.
2 O Israel, in him that made thee rejoice;
Let all Zion's sons exult in their King ;
While to martial dances you join a glad voice,
Your lutes, harps and timbrels in harmony bring.
3 The Lord in his saints still finds his delight;
Salvation from him the meek shall adorn;
They well may be joyful, sustain'd by his might,
And crown'd by his favour may lift up their horn.
4 Let carpets be spread, and banquets prepar'd
Those altars around, whence incense ascends;
Whilst anthems of glory through Salem are heard,
And God, whom we worship, indulgent attends.
5 Then as your hearts bound with music and wine,
Inspir'd by the God, who reigns in the place:
Unsheath all your weapons, and bright let them shine,
And brandish your faulchions, while chaunting his
praise.
6 Then march to the field; the heathen defy;
And scatter his wrath on nations around:
Like angels of vengeance your swords lift on high,
And boast that Jehovah commissions the wound.
7 Their generals subdued your triumphs shall grace,
And loaded with chains their kings shall be brought;
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