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2 How many kindred souls are fled

To swell the millions of the dead,
Since from this day the changing sun

Through his last yearly course has run! 3 We yet survive; but who can say,

Or through the year, or month, or day,
We shall retain this vital breath,

Thus far at least in league with death? 4 That breath is thine, eternal God!

'Tis thine to fix our soul's abode;
We hold our life from Thee alone,

On earth, or in the world unknown. 5 To Thee our spirits we resign;

Make them and own them still as thine;
So shall we smile, secure from fear,

Though death should blast the rising year. 365

D.7's. Life but a dream.

Ps. xc, 9.
1 WHILE with ceaseless course the sun

Hasted through the former year,
Many souls their race have run,

Never more to meet us here:
Fix'd in an eternal state,

They have done with all below;
We a little longer wait,

But how little none can know.

2 As the winged arrow flies

Speedily the mark to find;
As the lightning from the skies

Darts, and leaves, no trace behind;
Swiftly thus our fleeting days

Bear us down life's rapid stream;
Upwards, Lord! our spirits raise;

All below is but a dream.
3 Thanks for mercies past receive;

Pardon of our sins renew;
Teach us henceforth how to live

With eternity in view:
Bless thy word to young and old;

Fill us with a Saviour's love;
And, when life's short tale is told,

May we dwell with Thee above. 366

God our Guardian through the year.
Gen. xvii, 7. Deut. xi, 12. Josh. iii, 4.
1 Great God! we sing that mighty hand,

By which supported still we stand:
The op'ning year thy mercy shows;

Let mercy crown it till the close.
2 By day, by night, at home, abroad,

Still we are guarded by our God;
By his incessant bounty fed;
By his unerring counsel led.

3 With grateful hearts the past we own;

The future, all to us unknown,
We to thy guardian care commit,

And peaceful leave before thy feet. 4 In scenes exalted or depress’d,

Thou art our joy, and Thou our rest;
Thy goodness all our hopes shall raise,

Adored through all our changing days. 5 When death shall interrupt these songs,

And seal in silence mortal tongues,
Unchanging God! thy love shall be

Our theme throughout eternity. 367

C.M. A new year's song of praise.

Isa. xlvi, 3, 4.
1 God of our life! thy various praise

Let mortal voices sound;
Thy hand revolves our fleeting days,

And brings the seasons round.
2 To Thee shall annual incense rise,

Our Father and our Friend;
While annual mercies from the skies

In genial streams descend.
3 In every scene of life, thy care,

In every age, we see;
And constant as thy favours are,

So let our praises be.

4[Still may thy love in every scene,

In every age, appear;
And let the same compassion deign

To bless the opening year.]
5 Oh! keep each fond and foolish heart

From anxious passions free;
Teach us, when earthly joys depart,

To find our rest in l'hee.
6 If mercy smile, let mercy bring

Our wand'ring souls to God;
So in affliction we may sing,

If Thou wilt bless the rod.

C. M.


God's bounteous Providence.
Gen, viii, 22.

Jer. v. 24.
1 FOUNTAIN of mercy! God of love!

How rich thy bounties are!
The rolling seasons, as they move,

Proclaim thy constant care.
2 When in the bosom of the earth

The sower hid the grain,
Thy goodness mark'd its secret birth,

And sent the early rain.

3 The spring's sweet influence, Lord! was thine;

The plants in beauty grew ;
Thou gav'st refulgent suns to shine,

And mild refreshing dew.
4 These various mercies from above

Matured the swelling grain;
A kindly harvest crowns thy love,

And plenty fills the plain.
5 We own and bless thy gracious sway;

Thy hand all nature hails;
Seed-time nor harvest, night nor day,

Summer nor winter, fails.
5th of November.

L. M. Praise for National deliverance. 2 Sam. xxii, 1-3. Ezra ix, 13, 14. Ps. cxxiv, 1-3. 1 WHILE Britain, favour'd of the skies,

Recalls the wonders God hath wrought,
Let grateful joy adoring rise,

warm to rapture every thought.
2 When wicked men combined their power,

And doom'd these isles their certain prey,
Thy hand forbad the fatal hour;

Their evil plots in ruin lay.
3 Again our restless, cruel foes

Resumed, avow'd, a fresh design;
Again to save us God arose,
And Britain owns the hand Divine

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