HYMN LXXXIV. C. M. Gratitude to God. 1 When all thy mercies, O my God! 2 O how shall words, with equal warmth, 3 Thy providence my life sustain'd, 4 To all my weak complaints and cries, Thy mercy lent an ear, Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learn'd 5 Unnumber'd comforts on my soul 6 When in the slipp'ry paths of youth, Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe, 7 Thro' hidden dangers, toils, and deaths, It gently clear'd my way; And through the pleasing snares of vice, 8 When worn by sickness oft hast thou 9 Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss 10 Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, 11 Through ev'ry period of my life And after death, in unknown worlds, 12 When nature fails, and day and night Divide thy works no more, My ever grateful heart, O Lord! 13 Through all eternity, to thee For O! eternity alone HYMN LXXXV. P.M. Thanksgiving for mercies. 1 Sov'reign Lord of light and glory! Ever sacred be the theme! 2 Kind dispenser of each blessing Praise to God, immortal praise! 3 Thus, with humble adoration, Praise belongs to thee alone! 4 In thy every dispensation, Glory be to God on high! HYMN LXXXVI. Six Line C. M. The goodness of God acknowledged and adored. There's nought in earth, or sea, or air, 2 Immensely high thy glories rise, 3 To thee our warm affections move, 4 What shall we do to spread thy praise, O God! through our remaining days, Or how thy name adore? To thee we consecrate our breath, HYMN LXXXVII. L. M. The bounties of providence acknowledged. 1 Father of light! we sing thy name, Who kindlest up the lamp of day; Wide as he spreads his golden flame, His beams thy power and love display. 2 Fountain of good! from thee proceeds, In copious drops, the genial rain, Which o'er the hills, and thro' the meads, Revives the grass, and swells the grain. 3 Thro' the wide world thy bounties spread; Yet thousands of our guilty race, Though by thy daily bounty fed, Despise thy law, reject thy grace. 4 Not so may our forgetful hearts O'erlook the tokens of thy care; But what thy lib'ral hand imparts, Still own in praise, still ask in prayer. 5 So shall our suns more grateful shine, And showers in richer drops shall fall, HYMN LXXXVIII. C. M. Complaint of ingratitude. 1 Great God! to thee my all I owe, And shall my tongue be still? |