Untune the concord of the spheres, And shake the guilty soul;
5 Unmoved may we the final storm Of jarring worlds survey,
That ushers in the tranquil morn Of life's eternal day.
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, And bathes in dew the opening flower, To thee we owe her fragrant hour; And when she pours her choral song, Her melodies to thee belong.
2 Or when, in paler tints arrayed,
The evening slowly spreads her shade, That soothing shade, that grateful gloom, Can, more than day's enlivening bloom, Still every fond and vain desire, And calmer, purer thoughts inspire; From earth the pensive spirit free, And lead the softened heart to thee. 3 In every scene thy hands have dressed, In every form by thee impressed, Upon the mountain's awful head,
Or where the sheltering woods are spread; In every note that swells the gale, Or tuneful stream that cheers the vale, The cavern's depth, or echoing grove,- A voice is heard of praise and love.
4 As o'er thy work the seasons roll, And soothe, with change of bliss, the soul,
O, never may their smiling train Pass o'er the human sense in vain! But oft, as on their charms we gaze, Attune the wandering soul to praise ; And be the joys that most we prize Those joys that from thy favor rise!
1 HOW happy is he born and taught, Who serveth not another's will; Whose armor is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill! 2 Whose passions not his masters are, Whose soul is still prepared for death, Untied to this vain world by care Of public fame or private breath ; 3 Who hath his life from rumors freed, Whose conscience is his strong retreat; Whose state can neither flatterers feed, Nor ruin make oppressors great; 4 Who God doth late and early pray More of his grace than gifts to lend ; To crave for less and more obey,
Nor dare with Heaven's high will contend. 5 This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands, And, having nothing, yet hath all.
1 THOU sweet-gliding Kedron, by thy silver stream Our Saviour would linger in moonlight's soft beam; And by thy bright waters would oftentimes stray, And lose in thy murmurs the toils of the day.
2 How damp were the vapors that fell on his head! How hard was his pillow, how humble his bed! The angels, astonished, grew sad at the sight, And followed their Master with solemn delight. 3 O garden of Olivet! dear, honored spot!
The fame of thy wonders shall ne'er be forgot; The theme most transporting to seraphs above, The triumph of sorrow, the triumph of love. 878.
1 ALL men are equal in their birth, Heirs of the earth and skies;
All men are equal when that earth Fades from their dying eyes.
2 God meets the throngs who pay their vows In courts that hands have made; And hears the worshipper who bows Beneath the plantain shade.
3 'T is man alone who difference sees, And speaks of high and low, And worships those, and tramples these, While the same path they go.
4 O, let man hasten to restore
To all their rights of love;
In power and wealth exult no more; In wisdom lowly move.
5 Ye great, renounce your earth-born pride, Ye low, your shame and fear :
Live, as ye worship, side by side; Your brotherhood revere.
1 HOW blest is he whose tranquil mind, When life declines, recalls again
The years that time has cast behind, And reaps delight from toil and pain. 2 So, when the transient storm is past, The sudden gloom and driving shower, The sweetest sunshine is the last; The loveliest is the evening hour.
880. 7 & 6s. M. (Peculiar.) METH. COLL. Quiet Religion.
1 OPEN, Lord, my inward ear, And bid my heart rejoice; Bid my quiet spirit hear
The comfort of thy voice; Never in the whirlwind found, Or where earthquakes rock the place, Still and silent is the sound,
The whisper of thy grace.
2 From the world of sin, and noise, And hurry, I withdraw ; For the small and inward voice I wait with humble awe; Silent I am now and still, Dare not in thy presence move; To my waiting soul reveal
1 LET deepest silence all around Its peaceful shelter spread; So shall the living word abound, The word that wakes the dead.
2 How sweet to wait upon the Lord In stillness and in prayer!
What though no preacher speak the word,
3 He knows to bend the heart of steel, He bows the loftiest soul;
O'er all we think and all we feel, How matchless his control!
4 And, O, how precious is his love, In tender mercy given; It whispers of the blest above, And stays the soul on heaven.
5 From mind to mind, in streams of joy, The holy influence spreads;
'T is peace, 't is praise without alloy, For God that influence sheds.
6 To thee, O God, we still will pray, And praise thee as before; For this thy glorious gospel-day, Teach us to praise thee more.
1 WHEN on her Maker's bosom The new-born earth was laid, And nature's opening blossom Its fairest bloom displayed; When all with fruits and flowers The laughing soil was dressed, And Eden's fragrant bowers Received their human guest,
2 No sin his face defiling,
The heir of nature stood, And God, benignly smiling, Beheld that all was good. Yet in that hour of blessing
A single want was known, A wish the heart distressing, For Adam was alone.
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