Bright as meridian day,
Calm as the evening ray,
Full as a sea without a shore.

4 Till that blest period come,
Zion shall be my home;
And may I never thence remove
Till from the church below

To heaven at once I go,

And there commune in perfect love!

I

SWE

WEET is the work, my God, my
King,

To praise thy name, give thanks, and
sing;

To show thy love by morning light,
And talk of all thy truth at night.

2 Sweet is the day of sacred rest;
No mortal cares shall seize my breast:
O may my heart in tune be found,
Like David's harp of solemn sound!

3 My heart shall triumph in my Lord, And bless his works, and bless his word; Thy works of grace how bright they shine!

How deep thy counsels, how divine!

4 Fools never raise their thoughts so high;

Like brutes they live, like brutes they
die !

Like grass they flourish, till thy breath
Blasts them in everlasting death.

5 But I shall share a glorious part ;
When grace hath well refined my heart;
And fresh supplies of joy are shed,
Like holy oil, to cheer my head.

6 Then shall I see, and hear, and know, All I desired or wished below;

I

2

With long desire my spirit faints
To meet th' assemblies of thy saints.
My flesh would rest in thine abode;
My panting heart cries out for God!"
My God, my King, why should I be
So far from all my joys and thee?

3 Blest are the saints who dwell on high,

Around thy throne, above the sky; Thy brightest glories shine above, And all their work is praise and love. 4 Blest are the souls who find a place Within the temple of thy grace ; There they behold thy gentler rays, And seek thy face, and learn thy praise. Blest are the men whose hearts are set To find the way to Zion's gate; God is their strength; and through the road,

5

The dawn of thy returning day; My thoughts, O God, ascend to thee, While thus my early vows I pay.

2 Oh, bid this trifling world retire,

And drive each carnal thought away; Nor let me feel one vain desire

One sinful thought through all the day.

3 Then, to thy courts when I repair, My soul shall rise on joyful wing, The wonders of thy love declare, And join the strains which angels sing.

5

I

Which swells, and sinks, and swells again,

Dies on the walls, but lives to God. Oft when the world, with iron hands, Has bound me in its six days' chain, This bursts them, like the strong man's bands,

And lets my spirit loose again.
Go, man of pleasure, strike thy lyre,
Of broken Sabbaths sing the charms;
Ours be the prophet's car of fire

That bears us to a Father's arms.
Cunningham.

HINE earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love,

But there's a nobler rest above; To that our longing souls aspire, With cheerful hope and strong desire, 2 No more fatigue, no more distress, Nor sin nor death shall reach the place ; No groans shall mingle with the songs That warble from immortal tongues.

5 In holy duties let the day
In holy pleasures pass away.
How sweet a Sabbath thus to spend,
In hope of one that ne'er shall end!

I

WEET is the light of Sabbath eve,

And soft the sunbeams lingering there;

For these blest hours the world I leave, Wafted on wings of faith and prayer. Season of rest! the tranquil soul

Feels the sweet calm, and melts to
love;

And while these sacred moments roll,
Faith sees the smiling heaven above.
Nor will our days of toil be long;
Our pilgrimage will soon be trod;
And we shall join the ceaseless song,
The endless Sabbath of our God.

pose

Which none but he that feels it knows.

4 This heavenly calm within the breast Is the dear pledge of glorious rest

O'er island, continent, or deep,

Thy far-spread family awoke,

Sabbath, all round the world, to

keep.

The end of cares, the end of pains.

From north to south adoring throngs;

shade,

The stars came out to hear their

songs.

4 And not a prayer, a tear, a sigh,

5

I

S

WEET Saviour, bless us ere we go; Thy word into our minds instill; And make our lukewarm hearts to glow With lowly love and fervent will. Through life's long day, and death's dark night,

O gentle Jesus, be our light.

2 The day is gone, its hours have run, And thou hast taken count of all, The scanty triumphs grace hath won, The broken vow, the frequent fall. Through life's long day, and death's dark night,

O gentle Jesus, be our light.

3 Grant us, dear Lord, from evil ways

True absolution and release;
And bless us, more than in past days,

With purity and inward peace, Through life's long day, and death's dark night,

O gentle Jesus, be our light.

2

Sweet fear, and sober liberty, And simple hearts without alloy That only long to be like thee. Through life's long day, and death's dark night,

O gentle Jesus, be our light.

WHEN

26

FABER.

L. M. 6 lines.

HEN, streaming from the eastern skies,

The morning light salutes mine eyes,
O Sun of righteousness divine,

On me with beams of mercy shine!
Oh! chase the clouds of guilt away,
And turn my darkness into day.
And when to heaven's all-glorious King
My morning sacrifice I bring,
And, mourning o'er my guilt and
shame,

Ask mercy in my Saviour's name ;
Then, Jesus, cleanse me with thy blood,
And be my Advocate with God.

3 When each day's scenes and labors close,

And wearied nature seeks repose,
With pardoning mercy richly blest,
Guard me, my Saviour, while I rest ;
And, as each morning sun shall rise,
Oh, lead me onward to the skies!

4 And at my life's last setting sun,
My conflicts o'er, my labors done,
Jesus, thy heavenly radiance shed,
To cheer and bless my dying bed;
And from death's gloom my spirit raise,
To see thy face and sing thy praise.

W. SHRUBSOLE

I

FRO

ROM every stormy wind that
blows,

From every swelling tide of woes,
There is a calm, a sure retreat-
'Tis found beneath the mercy-seat.

2 There is a place where Jesus sheds.
The oil of gladness on our heads,
A place, than all besides, more sweet-
It is the blood-bought mercy-seat.

3 There is a scene, where spirits blend, Where friend holds fellowship with friend;

Though sundered far, by faith they meet Around one common mercy-seat.

4 There, there on eagles' wings we soar, And sin and sense molest no more, And heav'n comes down our souls to

greet,

And glory crowns the mercy-seat.

5 Oh, let my hand forget her skill, My tongue be silent, cold and still, This bounding heart forget to beat, If I forget thy mercy-seat!

I

'M

28

STOWELL.

L. M.

Y God, is any hour so sweet,

Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw,
Gives exercise to faith and love,
Brings every blessing from above.

3 Restraining prayer, we cease to fight; Prayer makes the Christian's armor bright;

And Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees.

Words flow apace when you complain,