H

3

How kind the influence of the skies!
The fhowers, with bleflings fraught,
Bid verdure, beauty, fragrance rife,
And fix the roving thought.

4 Then let my wond'ring heart confess,
With gratitude and love,

5

The bounteous hand that deigns to bless
The garden, field and grove.

That bounteous hand my thoughts adore,
Beyond expreffron kind,

Hath better, nobler gifts in store,

To blefs the craving mind.

6 O God of nature and of grace,
Thy heavenly gifts impart !
Then fhall my meditation trace
Spring, blooming in my heart!

7 Infpir'd to praife, I then fhall join
Glad nature's cheerful fong,
And love and gratitude divine
Attune my joyful tongue.

Mrs. STEELE

Hymn CCLXIX. Common Metre. [*]

Strength from God.

HENCE do our mournful tho'ts arife?

W And where's our courage fied?

Has reftlefs fin and hopeless fear

Struck all our comforts dead?

2 Have we forgot th' Almighty hand That form'd the earth and fea? Or can the all-creating arm

Grow weary, or decay?

3 Treasures of everlasting might In our Jehovah dwell;

5

He gives the conqueft to the weak,
And treads their foes to hell.

Mere mortal power shall fade and die,
And youthful vigour ceafe;

But they who wait upon the Lord
Shall find their ftrength increase.

The faint fhall mount on eagles' wings,
And taste the promis'd bliss,

'Till their unwearied feet arrive
Where perfect pleasure is.

WATTS.

Hymn CCLXX. Common Metre. [*]

W

Victory over Death, through Chrift.

HEN death appears before my fight,
In all his dire array,

Unequal to the dreadful fight,

My courage dies away.

2 How fhall I meet this potent foe,
Whofe frown my foul alarms?
Dark horror fits upon his brow!
And vict'ry waits his arms!
3 But fee my glorious Leader nigh!
My Lord, my Saviour lives;
Before him death's pale terrors fly,
And my faint heart revives.

4 Jefus, be thou my fure defence,
My guard for ever near;
My faith fhall triumph over fenfe,
And never yield to fear.

5 O may I meet the final hour
With fortitude divine;

Suftain'd by thine almighty power,
The conqueft must be mine.

T

6 Lord, I commit my foul to thee,
Accept the facred truft;
Receive this nobler part of me,
And watch my fleeping duft

7.

;

Till that illuftrious morning come,
When all thy faints fhall rife,
And, cloth'd in thine immortal bloom,
Attend thee to the skies.

8 O let me join their raptur'd lays;
And, with the blissful throng,
Refound falvation, power and praise
In everlasting fong.

Mrs STEELE.

Hymn CCLXXI. Long Metre. [*]

WH

Christ the Life of the Soul.

HEN doubts and fears prevailing rife, And fainting hope almost expires; Jefus, to thee, I lift mine eyes,

To thee I breathe my ftrong defires.

2 Art thou not mine, my living Lord?
And can my hope, my comfort die,
Fix'd on thine everlafting word,
That word which built the earth and sky?
3 If my immortal Saviour lives,
Then my immortal hope is fure;
His word a firm foundation gives ;
Here let me build and reft fecure.
4 Here let my faith unfhaken dwell;
Immoveable the promife ftands;
Not all the powers of earth and hell
Can e'er diffolve the facred bands.
Here, then, my foul, thy truft repose;
If Jefus is forever mine,

Not death itself, the laft of foes,
Shall break a union fo divine.

Mrs. STEELE,

Hymn CCLXXII. Common Metre. [b] Thirfting after God. Ifaiah xli. 17.

W

HEN fainting in the fultry wafte,
And parch'd with thirst extreme,

The weary piigrim longs to tafte
The cool refreshing stream;
2 Should, fudden to his hopeless eye,
A cryftal fpring appear,

How would the enliv'ning, fweet fupply
His drooping fpirit cheer!

3 So longs the weary fainting mind,
Opprefs'd with fins and woes,
Some foul-reviving spring to find,
Whence heav'nly comfort flows.
4 Thus fweet the confolations are
The promises impart ;

Here flowing streams of life appear,
To eafe the panting heart.

50 when I thirft for thee, my God,
With ardent strong defire,

And ftill, through all this defart road,
To tafte thy grace, afpire ;

6 Then, let my prayer to thee afcend,
A grateful facrifice;

My plaintive voice thou wilt attend,
And grant me full fupplies,

Mrs. STEELE.

Hymn CCLXXIII. Com. Metre. [or

The Difcipline of God's Providence.

WHEN I review the crooked ways,

Through which my feet have trod,

I find inceffant cause to bless

And love my guardian God.

2 Through all the labyrinth of life,
My folly he purfu'd;

My wand'ring heart to quick return,
How tenderly he woo'd!

3 I rarely plann'd, but caufe I found
My plan's defeat to blefs;
Oft I lamented an event

Which turn'd to my fuccefs.

4 When labouring under fancy'd ill,
My fpirits to fuftain;

He kindly cur'd with wholefome draughts
Of unaffected pain.

5 Sometimes he brought me near to death,
And, pointing to the grave,
Made terror whifper kind advice,
And taught the tomb to fave.

6 To raise my thoughts beyond where worlds As fpangles o'er us fhine;

One day he gave, and made the next
My foul's delight refign.

7 From what feem'd horror and despair,
The richest harvest rofe;

And gave me in the will divine,
An abfolute repofe.

YOUNG.

Hymn CCLXXIV. Long Metre. C

W

Crucifixien to the World by the Cross of Chrift.
HEN I furvey the wond'rous crofs,
On which the King of glory died;
My richest gain I count but lofs,
And pour contempt on all my pride,