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3 What though, in solemn silence, all

Move round this dark, terrestrial ball;
What though no real voice nor sound
Amidst their radiant orbs be found;
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice,
Forever singing, as they shine,
6. The hand that made us is divine."


C. M.


Ps. 19.

1 TURN to stars of heaven thine eyes,

And God shall meet thee there;
Exalt thy vision to the skies,

His glory they declare ;
Day speaks to day, night teaches night,

The wonders of their frame,
And all in harmony unite

Their Maker to proclaim. 2 Earth has no language, man no speech,

But gives their voice a tongue;
Their words the world's foundations reach;

Their hymn in heaven is sung ;
Pavilioned there in glory bright,

As from a blooming bride,
The sun comes forth in floods of light,

With all a bridegroom's pride. 3 Glad, like a giant for the race,

His orient flame ascends, Soars through the boundless realms of space,

And in the west descends;

His heat the vital lamp bestows,

The firmament pervades,
In ocean's darkest caverns glows,

And earth's profoundest shades.

L. M.

Watts. The Glory of God in Creation and Prooidence. Ps. 104. 1 MY soul, thy great Creator praise ;

When, clothed in his celestial rays,
He in full majesty appears,

And like a robe his glory wears.
2 The heavens are for his curtains spread;

The unfathomed deep he makes his bed ; Clouds are his chariot when he flies,

On winged storms, across the skies.
3 The world's foundations by his hand

Are poised, and shall forever stand ;
He binds the ocean in his chain,

Lest it should drown the earth again.
4 The swelling billows know their bound,

And in their channels walk their round;
Yet, thence conveyed by secret veins,
They spring on hills, and drench the plains.

L. M.

WATTS. The Same. Ps. 104. 1 GOD from his cloudy cistern pours

On the parched earth enriching showers;
The grove, the garden, and the field,
A thousand joyful blessings yield.

2 What noble fruit the vines produce !

The olive yields a shining juice:
Our hearts are cheered with generous wine;

With inward joy our faces shine. 3 He sets the sun his circling race,

Appoints the moon to change her face;
And, when thick darkness veils the day,

Calls out wild beasts to hunt their prey. 4 Fierce lions lead their young abroad,

And, roaring, ask their meat from God;
But when the morning beams arise,

The savage beast to covert flies. 5 Then man to daily labor goes;

The night was made for his repose ;
Sleep is thy gift, that sweet relief

From tiresome toil and wasting grief. 6 How strange thy works! how great thy skill!

And every land thy riches fill;
Thy wisdom round the world we see;
This spacious earth is full of thee.



L. M.

The Same. Ps. 104.
1 VAST are thy works, Almighty Lord;

All nature rests upon thy word;
And the whole race of creatures stands,

Waiting their portion from thy hands. 2 But when thy face is hid, they mourn,

And, dying, to their dust return;
Both man and beast their souls resign:
Life, breath, and spirit, all are thine.

3 Yet thou canst breathe on dust again,

And fill the world with beasts and men; A word of thy creating breath

Repairs the wastes of time and death. 4 His works, the wonders of his might,

Are honored with his own delight;
How awful are his glorious ways!

The Lord is dreadful in his praise. 5 In thee my hopes and wishes meet,

And make my meditations sweet;
Thy praises shall my breath employ,
Till it expire in endless joy.


L. M.

J. Q. Adams.

Ps. 104.

1 O LORD my God! how great art thou !

With honor and with glory crowned ; Light's dazzling splendors veil thy brow,

And gird the universe around.
2 Spirits and angels thou hast made ;

Thy ministers a flaming fire;
By thee were earth's foundations laid ;

At thy rebuke the floods retire.
3 Thine are the fountains of the deep;

By thee their waters swell or fail ;
Up to the mountain's summit creep,

Or shrink beneath the lowly vale.
4 Thy fingers mark their utmost bound;

That bound the waters may not pass ; Their moisture swells the teeming ground, And paints the valleys o'er with grass.

5 The waving harvest, Lord, is thine ;

The vineyard, and the olive's juice;
Corn, wine, and oil, by thee combine,

Life, gladness, beauty, to produce.
6 The moon for seasons thou hast made,

The sun for change of day and night;
Of darkness thine the deepest shade,

And thine the day's meridian light. 7 O Lord, thy works are all divine;

In wisdom hast thou made them all ;
Earth's teeming multitudes are thine ;

Thine — peopled ocean's great and small. 8 All these on thee for life depend ;

Thy spirit speaks, and they are born ;
They gather what thy bounties send ;

Thy hand of plenty fills the horn. 9 Thy face is hidden, — they turn pale,

With terror quake, with anguish burn;
Their breath thou givest to the gale;

They die, and to their dust return. 10 And thou, my soul, with pure delight,

Thy voice to bless thy Maker raise ;
His praise let morning sing to night,

And night to morn repeat his praise.


P. M. Miss H. M. WILLIAMS. The Day is thine, the Night also is thine." Ps. Ixxiv. 16, 17. 1 MY God! all nature owns thy sway;

Thou giv'st the night, and thou the day;
When all thy loved creation wakes,
When morning, rich in lustre, breaks,

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