And low he bows to their complaints,
And pities ev'ry groan.
2 In all the joys they here possess,
He takes a tender part;
And, when they rise to heav'nly bliss,
Complacence fills his heart.
3 My God, are all my pleasures thine,
My comforts thy delight?
O! be thy happiness divine
Most precious in my sight.
4 They most in all thy bliss shall share,
Whose hearts can love thee most;
O could I vie in ardour here
With all th' angelic host.
OD of salvation, we adore
Thy saving love, thy saving pow'r; And, to our utmost stretch of thought, Hail the redemption thou hast wrought.
2 We love the stroke that breaks our chain,
The sword by which our sins are slain :
And, while abas'd in dust we bow,
We sing the grace that lays us low.
3 Perish each thought of human pride;
Let God alone be magnified:
His glory let the heav'ns resound,
Shouted from earth's remotest bound.
4 Saints, who his full salvation know,o,
Saints, who but taste it here below,
Join ev'ry angel's voice to raise,
Continu'd never-ending praise.
Fany pity dwell on earth,
If any cries can call it forth,
Let helpless youth for succour plead,
And bid, O bid our wish succeed.
2 No crimes of ours have brought us low,
Our age too tender crimes to know;
But born in stern misfortune's frown,od
With iron arms she keeps us down.
3 Yet think us not despis'd by God,
Our rugged paths his saints have trod;
The son of God himself hath said, O
He found no place to lay his head.
4 Oh! for his sake compassion show,"
In gratitude one mite bestow;
He bids us hope, he bids us sue,
Ev'n he that pleads in heav'n for you.
HYMN 95.
1 SEE how the mounting sun
Pursues his shining way;
And wide proclaims his Maker's praise, With every bright'ning ray..
2 Thus would my rising soul Its heavenly Parent sing;
And to its great original
The humble tribute bring.
3 Serene I laid me down
Beneath his guardian care;
I slept, and I awoke, and found
My kind preserver near!
4 Thus does thine arm support
This weak defenceless frame;
But whence these favors, Lord, to me,
All worthless as I am?
5 Oh! how shall I repay
The bounties of my God?
This feeble spirit pants beneath
The pleasing, painful load.
6 My life I would anew
Devote, O Lord, to thee;
And, in thy service, I would spend
A long eternity.
TERNAL source of ev'ry joy!
Well may thy praise our lips employ,
While in thy temple we appear
To hail thee, Sovereign of the year.
2 Wide as the wheels of nature roll,
Thy hand supports and guides the whole :
The sun is taught by thee to rise,
And darkness when to veil the skies.
3 The flowery Spring at thy command,
Perfumes the air and paints the land;
The Summer rays with vigor shine
To raise the corn and cheer the vine.
4 Thy hand, in Autumn, richly pours
Thro' all our coasts redundant stores;
And Winter, softened by thy cares,
No more the face of horror wears.
5 Seasons, and months, and weeks, and days,
Demand successive songs of praise;
And be the grateful homage paid,
With morning light, and ev'ning shade.
6 Here in thy house let incence rise,
And circling Sabbaths bless our eyes,
Till to those lofty heights we soar,
Where days and
EAR what the voice from heav'n proclaims
For all the pious dead;
Sweet is the savor of their names,
And soft their sleeping bed.
2 They die in Jesus and are bless'd;
How kind their slumbers are!
From sufferings and from sins releas'd,
And freed from ev'ry snare.
3 Far from this world of toil and strife,
They're present with the Lord;
The labours of their mortal life
End in a large reward.
1 LIFE is the time to serve the Lord,
The time t'insure the great reward:
And while the lamp holds out to burn,
The vilest sinner may return.
2 [Life is the hour that God hath giv'n,
To 'scape from hell and fly to heav'n;
The day of grace, and mortals may
Secure the blessings of the day.]
3 The living know that they must die,
But all the dead forgotten lie;
Their mem❜ry and their sense is gone,
Alike unknowing and unknown.
4 [Their hatred and their love is lost,
Their envy bury'd in the dust:
They have no share in all that's done
Beneath the circuit of the sun.]
5 Then what my thoughts design to do,
My hands with all your might pursue;
Since no device nor work is found,
Nor faith, nor hope, beneath the ground.
6 There are no acts of pardon past
In the cold grave to which we haste;
But darkness, death, and long despair,
Reign in eternal silence there.
BLESS'D be the Father, and his love,
To whose celestial source we owe
|