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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,
Before we reach the heavenly fields,
Or walk the golden streets.

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
Of all this wondrous world we see;
Its glow by day, its smile by night,

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,—
That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
So grand, so countless, Lord! are Thine.

When youthful Spring around us breathes,
Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh;
And every flower the Summer wreathes
Is born beneath that kindling eye.
Where'er we turn, Thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine.

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,
Strike the viol, touch the lute,
Let not tongue nor string be mute;
Nor a creature dumb be found
That hath either voice or sound.

Let those things which do not live
In still music praises give;
Lowly pipe, ye worms that creep
On the earth or in the deep:
Loud aloft your voices strain,
Beasts and monsters of the main;
Birds, your warbling treble sing;
Clouds, your peals of thunder ring;
Sun and moon, exalted higher,
And bright stars, augment the choir.

Come, ye sons of human race,
In this chorus take your place,
And amid the mortal throng
Be you masters of the song:
Angels and supernal powers,
Be the noblest tenor yours:
Let, in praise of God, the sound
Run a never-ending round,
That our song of praise may be
Everlasting, as is He.

From earth's vast and hollow womb
Music's deepest base may come;
Seas and floods, from shore to shore,
Shall their counter-tenors roar:
To this concert, when we sing,
Whistling winds, your descants bring;
That our song may over-climb
All the bounds of place and time,
And ascend, from sphere to sphere,
To the great Almighty's ear.

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;
Let the Redeemer's Name be sung
Through every land, by every tongue!

Eternal are Thy mercies, Lord!
Eternal truth attends Thy word;
Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore,
Till suns shall rise and set no more.

ISAAC WATTS.

BLOW YE THE TRUMPET, BLOW.

BLOW ye the trumpet, blow,
The gladly solemn sound;
Let all the nations know,

To earth's remotest bound;
The year of Jubilee is come;
Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home.

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:
The year of Jubilee is come;
Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home.

Ye, who have sold for naught
Your heritage above,
Shall have it back unbought,
The gift of Jesus' love;
The year of Jubilee is come;
Return, ye ransom'd sinners, home.

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
SING.

OH for a thousand tongues to sing
My dear Redeemer's praise,
The glories of my God and King,
The triumphs of His grace!

My gracious Master and my God,
Assist me to proclaim,

To spread, through all the earth abroad,
The honors of Thy Name.

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,
New life the dead receive;

The mournful, broken hearts rejoice,
The humble poor believe.

Hear Him, ye deaf; His praise, ye dumb,
Your loosen'd tongues employ;
Ye blind, behold your Saviour come,
And leap, ye lame, for joy!

CHARLES WESLEY,

THE PRIEST.

I WOULD I were an excellent divine
That had the Bible at my fingers' ends;
That men might hear out of this mouth
of mine,

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 more of heaven in each we see;
Some softening gleam of love and prayer
Shall dawn on every cross and care.

As for some dear familiar strain
Untired we ask, and ask again,
Ever, in its melodious store,
Finding a spell unheard before;

Such is the bliss of souls serene,
When they have sworn, and steadfast mean,
Counting the cost, in all t' espy
Their God, in all themselves deny.
Oh, could we learn that sacrifice,
How would our hearts with wisdom talk
What lights would all around us rise!
Along life's dullest, dreariest walk!

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,
Hearts that with rising morn arise!
Eyes that the beam celestial view,
Which evermore makes all things new!

New every morning is the love
Our wakening and uprising prove,
Through sleep and darkness safely brought,
Restored to life, and power, and thought.

New mercies, each returning day,
Hover around us while we pray;
New perils past, new sins forgiven,
New thoughts of God, new hopes of
heaven.

Our neighbor and our work farewell,
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high
For sinful man beneath the sky;

The trivial round, the common task,
Will furnish all we ought to ask;
Room to deny ourselves,-a road
To bring us, daily, nearer God.

Seek we no more: content with these,
Let present rapture, comfort, ease,
As heaven shall bid them, come and go;
The secret this of rest below.

Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love
Fit us for perfect rest above,
And help us, this and every day,
To live more nearly as we pray!

JOHN KEBLE.

MORNING HYMN.

AWAKE, my soul, and with the sun
Thy daily stage of duty run;
Shake off dull sloth, and joyful rise
To pay thy morning sacrifice.

Thy precious time misspent redeem,
Each present day thy last esteem;

Improve thy talent with due care; For the great day thyself prepare.

In conversation be sincere ;

Keep conscience as the noontide clear;
Think how All-seeing God thy ways
And all thy secret thoughts surveys.

By influence of the light divine
Let thy own light to others shine,
Reflect all Heaven's propitious rays,
In ardent love and cheerful praise.

Wake and lift up thyself, my heart,
And with the angels bear thy part,
Who, all night long, unwearied sing
High praise to the Eternal King.

Awake! awake! Ye heavenly choir,
May your devotion me inspire,
That I, like you, my age may spend,
Like you may on my God attend!

May I, like you, in God delight,
Have all day long my God in sight,
Perform like you my Maker's will!
Oh may I never more do ill!

Had I your wings to Heaven I'd fly;
But God shall that defect supply;
And my soul, wing'd with warm desire,
Shall all day long to Heaven aspire.

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;
Oh never then from me depart!
For, to my soul, 'tis hell to be
But for one moment void of Thee.

Lord, I my vows to Thee renew; Disperse my sins as morning dew;

Direct, control, suggest, this day,
All I design, or do, or say;

That all my powers, with all their might,
In Thy sole glory may unite.

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!
Unto my life another day,
And giv'st me leave to walk abroad,

And labor in my lawful way;
My walks and works with me begin,
Conduct me forth, and bring me in.

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 faith, or hope, or love to fail,

Or any virtues of the mind;
But more and more let them increase,
And bring me to mine end in peace.

Lewd courses let my feet forbear;

Keep Thou my hands from doing wrong;
Let not ill counsels pierce mine ear,
Nor wicked words defile my tongue;
And keep the windows of each eye
That no strange lust climb in thereby.

But guard Thou safe my heart in chief;
That neither hate, revenge, nor fear,
Nor vain desire, vain joy, or grief,

Obtain command or dwelling there:
And, Lord! with every saving grace,
Still true to Thee maintain that place!

So till the evening of this morn

My time shall then so well be spent,
That when the twilight shall return
I may enjoy it with content,

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,
It is not night if Thou be near;
Oh! may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes!

When round Thy wondrous works below
My searching rapturous glance I throw,
Tracing out wisdom, power, and love,
In earth or sky, in stream or grove;
Or, by the light Thy words disclose,
Watch time's full river as it flows,
Scanning Thy gracious Providence,
Where not too deep for mortal sense;
When with dear friends sweet talk I hold,
And all the flowers of life unfold;
Let not my heart within me burn,
Except in all I Thee discern!

When the soft dews of kindly sleep
My wearied eyelids gently steep,
Be my last thought, How sweet to rest
For ever on my Saviour's breast!

Abide with me from morn till eve,
For without Thee I cannot live!
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without Thee I dare not die!

Thou Framer of the light and dark,
Steer through the tempest Thine own ark!
Amid the howling wintry sea
We are in port if we have Thee.

The rulers of this Christian land,
"Twixt Thee and us ordain'd to stand,
Guide Thou their course, O Lord, aright!
Let all do all as in Thy sight!

Oh! by Thine own sad burthen, borne
So meekly up the hill of scorn,
Teach Thou Thy priests their daily cross
To bear as Thine, nor count it loss!

If some poor wandering child of Thine
Have spurn'd, to-day, the voice divine;
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin;
Let him no more lie down in sin!

Watch by the sick, enrich the poor
With blessings from Thy boundless store!
Be every mourner's sleep to-night
Like infant's slumbers, pure and light!

Come near and bless us when we wake,
Ere through the world our way we take:
Till, in the ocean of Thy love,
We lose ourselves in Heaven above!

JOHN KEBLE.

EVENING HYMN.

ALL praise to Thee, my God, this night,
For all the blessings of the light;
Keep me, oh keep me, King of kings,
Beneath Thine own Almighty wings!

Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son,
The ill that I this day have done;
That with the world, myself, and Thee,
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.

Teach me to live, that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed!
To die, that this vile body may
Rise glorious at the awful day!

Oh may my soul on Thee repose;
And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close;
Sleep, that may me more vigorous make
To serve my God when I awake!

When in the night I sleepless lie,
My soul with heavenly thoughts supply!
Let no ill dreams disturb my rest,
No powers of darkness me molest!

Dull sleep, of sense me to deprive!
I am but half my time alive:
Thy faithful lovers, Lord, are grieved.
To lie so long of Thee bereaved.

But though sleep o'er my frailty reigns,
Let it not hold me long in chains!
And now and then let loose my heart,
Till it an hallelujah dart!

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,
For ever chase dark sleep away,
And hymns with the supernal choir
Incessant sing, and never tire?

Oh may my Guardian, while I sleep, Close to my bed His vigils keep;

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