The men of grace have found Glory begun below; Celestial fruits on earthly ground From faith and hope may grow. The hill of Zion yields A thousand sacred sweets, Then let our songs abound, And every tear be dry: We're marching through Emmanuel's ground To fairer worlds on high. ISAAC WATTS. THOU ART, O GOD! THOU art, O God! the life and light Are but reflections caught from Thee. Where'er we turn, Thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright are Thine. When day, with farewell beam, delays Among the opening clouds of even, And we can almost think we gaze Through golden vistas into heaven,Those hues that make the sun's decline So soft, so radiant, Lord! are Thine. When night, with wings of starry gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with unnumber'd eyes,— When youthful Spring around us breathes, THOMAS MOORE. PSALM CXLVIII. COME, oh come! in pious lays Sound we God Almighty's praise; Hither bring, in one consent, Heart and voice and instrument: Music add of every kind, Sound the trump, the cornet wind, Let those things which do not live Come, ye sons of human race, From earth's vast and hollow womb So from heaven on earth He shall Let His gracious blessings fall: And this huge wide orb we see Shall one choir, one temple be; Where in such a praiseful tone We will sing what He hath done, That the cursed fiends below Shall thereat impatient grow. Then, oh come, in pious lays Sound we God Almighty's praise! GEORGE WITHER. PSALM CXVII. FROM all that dwell below the skies The year of Jubilee is come; Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home. CHARLES WESLEY. Let the Creator's praise arise; Eternal are Thy mercies, Lord! ISAAC WATTS. BLOW YE THE TRUMPET, BLOW. BLOW ye the trumpet, blow, To earth's remotest bound; Jesus, our great High Priest, Hath full atonement made; Ye weary spirits, rest; Ye mournful souls, be glad; The year of Jubilee is come; Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home; Extol the Lamb of God, The all-atoning Lamb; Redemption in His blood Throughout the world proclaim: The year of Jubilee is come; Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home. Ye slaves of sin and hell, Your liberty receive; And safe in Jesus dwell, And blest in Jesus live: Ye, who have sold for naught The Gospel Trumpet hear, The news of heavenly grace; And, saved from earth, appear Before your Saviour's face: OH FOR A THOUSAND TONGUES TO OH for a thousand tongues to sing My gracious Master and my God, To spread, through all the earth abroad, Jesus, the Name that charms our fears, That bids our sorrows cease; "Tis music in the sinner's ears, "Tis life, and health, and peace! He speaks, and, listening to His voice, The mournful, broken hearts rejoice, Hear Him, ye deaf; His praise, ye dumb, CHARLES WESLEY, THE PRIEST. I WOULD I were an excellent divine How God doth make His enemies His friends; Rather than with a thundering and long prayer Be led into presumption, or despair. This would I be, and would none other be But a religious servant of my God; And know there is none other God but He, And willingly to suffer mercy's rodJoy in His grace, and live but in His love, And seek my bliss but in the world above. And I would frame a kind of faithful | If, on our daily course, our mind prayer Be set to hallow all we find, For all estates within the state of New treasures still, of countless price, God will provide for sacrifice. grace, That careful love might never know despair, Nor servile fear might faithful deface: love And this would I both day and night devise To make my humble spirit's exercise. And I would read the rules of sacred life; Persuade the troubled soul to patience; The husband care, and comfort to the wife, To child and servant due obedience; Faith to the friend, and to the neighbor peace, That love might live, and quarrels all might cease. Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be, As for some dear familiar strain Such is the bliss of souls serene, Prayer for the health of all that are dis- We need not bid, for cloister'd cell, eased, Confession unto all that are convicted, And patience unto all that are displeased, And comfort unto all that are afflicted, And mercy unto all that have offended, And grace to all: that all may be amended. NICHOLAS BRETON. MORNING HYMN. OH, timely happy, timely wise, New every morning is the love New mercies, each returning day, Our neighbor and our work farewell, The trivial round, the common task, Seek we no more: content with these, Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love JOHN KEBLE. MORNING HYMN. AWAKE, my soul, and with the sun Thy precious time misspent redeem, Improve thy talent with due care; For the great day thyself prepare. In conversation be sincere ; Keep conscience as the noontide clear; By influence of the light divine Wake and lift up thyself, my heart, Awake! awake! Ye heavenly choir, May I, like you, in God delight, Had I your wings to Heaven I'd fly; All praise to Thee, who safe hast kept, And hast refresh'd me whilst I slept! Grant, Lord, when I from death shall wake, I may of endless light partake! I would not wake, nor rise again, Ev'n Heaven itself I would disdain, Wert thou not there to be enjoy'd, And I in hymns to be employ'd! Heaven is, dear Lord, where'er Thou art; Lord, I my vows to Thee renew; Disperse my sins as morning dew; Direct, control, suggest, this day, That all my powers, with all their might, Praise God, from whom all blessings flow; Praise Him, all creatures here below! Praise Him above, ye heavenly host; Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost! THOMAS KEN. MORNING HYMN. SINCE Thou hast added now, O God! And labor in my lawful way; In every power my soul enjoys Internal virtues to improve; In every sense that she employs In her external works to move; Bless her, O God! and keep me sound From outward harm and inward wound. Let sin nor Satan's fraud prevail To make mine eye of reason blind, Or any virtues of the mind; Lewd courses let my feet forbear; Keep Thou my hands from doing wrong; But guard Thou safe my heart in chief; Obtain command or dwelling there: So till the evening of this morn My time shall then so well be spent, Guard my first springs of thought and And to Thy praise and honor say, will, And with Thyself my spirit fill. That this hath proved a happy day. GEORGE WITHER EVENING HYMN. SUN of my soul, Thou Saviour dear, When round Thy wondrous works below When the soft dews of kindly sleep Abide with me from morn till eve, Thou Framer of the light and dark, The rulers of this Christian land, Oh! by Thine own sad burthen, borne If some poor wandering child of Thine Watch by the sick, enrich the poor Come near and bless us when we wake, JOHN KEBLE. EVENING HYMN. ALL praise to Thee, my God, this night, Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son, Teach me to live, that I may dread Oh may my soul on Thee repose; When in the night I sleepless lie, Dull sleep, of sense me to deprive! But though sleep o'er my frailty reigns, The faster sleep the senses binds, The more unfetter'd are our minds; Oh may my soul, from matter free, Thy loveliness unclouded see! Oh when shall I, in endless day, Oh may my Guardian, while I sleep, Close to my bed His vigils keep; |