WE HEN all Thy mercies, O my God, Transported with the view, I'm loft Unnumbered comforts to my soul From whence these comforts flowed. When in the flippery paths of youth Thine arm, unseen, conveyed me safe, Through hidden dangers, toils, and death, And through the pleafing snares of vice, When worn with fickness, oft haft Thou And, when in fins and sorrows sunk, Ten thousand, thousand precious gifts Nor is the leaft a cheerful heart That tastes those gifts with joy. Through every period of my life And after death, in diftant worlds, Joseph Addison. 1728. "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits.” ciii. 2. MY Whose mercies are so great: soul repeat His praise, Whose anger is so flow to rise, High as the heavens are raised His power subdues our fins, Far as the east is from the west, Doth all our guilt remove. PSALM The pity of the Lord To those that fear his name Is such as tender parents feel; He knows our feeble frame. Our days are as the grass, Or like the morning flower; If one sharp blast sweeps o'er the field, But thy compaffions, Lord, To endless years endure; And children's children ever find Thy word of promise sure. Isaac Watts. 1674-1748. SEED-TIME AND HARVEST. COME, ye thankful people, come, Raise the song of Harvest-Home! All is safely gathered in, Ere the winter-ftorms begin; God, our Maker, doth provide For our wants to be supplied; We ourselves are God's own field, For the Lord our God fhall come, In His garner evermore. Then, thou Church triumphant, come, All are safely gathered in, Free from sorrow, free from fin, In God's garner to abide: Come, ten thousand angels, come, Raise the glorious Harvest-Home! Henry Alford. 1845. ΙΟ BEF PRAISE TO OUR CREATOR. EFORE Jehovah's awful throne, His sovereign power, without our aid, We are His people, we His care; We'll crowd Thy gates, with thankful songs, Wide as the world is Thy command; Firm as a rock Thy truth fhall stand, Isaac Watts. 1674-1748. |