7 And, when this fleeting life is fled,
And we are numbered with the dead,
Through Christ, Thy Son, O God of grace,
Take us to heaven, Thy dwelling-place.

219

Ps. lxvi. 9. 8.6.8.6.2-8's. T.R. TAYLOR.

1 VES! it is good to worship Thee, To tread Thy courts,

Lord!

To raise the voice, to bend the knee,
To hear Thy holy word:

We praise Thee that another year
Has brought this blest assembly here.
2 'Tis sweet, when every voice is heard,-
The aged and the young;
Sweeter, when every soul is stirred
To feel what we have sung,

And thoughts of heaven the hearts engage
Of smiling youth, and hoary age.

3 But O, if songs like ours be sweet,
How sweet that song must be,

Where all the ransomed ones shall meet,
From sin and suffering free;
Where nought of sorrow can intrude
To mar that mighty multitude!

4 How vast that heavenly temple is,
How ravishing the song;

Oh how unspeakable the bliss
Of that exulting throng;

Waking, for evermore, the strain

Of praise to Him who once was slain!

5 Ours, Saviour, may these raptures be,
When other joys are past;

And, having lived on earth to Thee,
May we exchange at last

This house-these hours-of praise and prayer,
For holier, happier, worship there!

220

1

L

ET all assembled here,
On this returning day,

Review the mercies of the year,
And grateful homage pay.

Yes, we adore Thee, Lord,
Within this sacred place;
Where oft we meet, with sweet accord,
To seek Thy gracious face.

To Thee, our God and King,
We glad hosannas raise;
O deign to hear our voices sing
The honours of Thy praise!

Command Thy blessing, Lord,
On all assembled here;

And, may we still Thy grace record
Through every circling year.

221

1

Psalm lxv. 11.

L.M.

I. P. C.

(WEET is the work, O Lord, to raise
Our Sabbath hymn of prayer and praise,

As oft our mingling voices seek

To sing the blessings of a week;

2 But sweeter yet our blest employ,
And higher far our sacred joy,
As now we meet together here,
To sing the blessings of a year.

3 Goodness and mercy crown our lot,
Though-sinful-we deserve it not;
And cheerfully our memories trace
Thy gifts of providence and grace.

4 O never may we thankless prove! Increase our gratitude and love; And let our resolution be,

To give ourselves, our all, to Thee.

5 United, heart, and hand, and voice, Now in our Saviour we rejoice;

And, still united, we would pray

To sound His name through endless day.

6 Lord, let us all Thy grace partake: Accept and bless, for Jesus' sake;

And loud shall sing our youthful host, "Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!"

222

1

Psalm ciii. 2.

D. 8's. TAYLOR.*

year is just going away;
The moments the Huishing fast;
My heart have you nothing to say
Concerning the time that is past?
Have I ever arisen from bed,

And did not remember my prayer?
Or if a few words I have said,

My thoughts, have they wandered elsewhere?

2 Have ill-temper, and passion, and pride, Grieved both my dear parents and Thee? Can I say I have heartily tried

Obedient and gentle to be?

But, Lord, Thou already hast known

Much more of my folly than I:

There is not a fault I can own,
Too little for God to descry!

3 This year is just going away;
The moments are finishing fast;
Look down, in Thy mercy,
I pray,
To pardon the time that is past:
And, as soon as another begins,

So help me to walk in Thy fear,
That I may not, with follies and sins,
Disfigure and waste a New Year.

DEATH AND HEAVEN.

223

1

1L"

Psalm lv. 6.

L.M.

WATTS.*

IFE is the time to serve the Lord,—
The time to insure the great reward;
And, while the lamp holds out to burn,
The vilest sinner may return.

2 Life is the hour that God hath given
To escape from hell, and flee to heaven;
The day of grace;—and mortals may
Secure the blessings of the day.

3 There is no pardon we may crave
In the cold regions of the grave;
But darkness, death, and long despair,
Will meet the unpardoned sinner there.

4 Then, what my thoughts design to do,
My hands, with all your might, pursue;
Since no device, nor work, is found,
Nor faith, nor hope, beneath the ground.

224

1

1 Cor. xv. 20.

S.M.

WATTS.*

YOON must this body die,--
This mortal frame decay;

Soon must these active limbs of mine
Lie mouldering in the clay :