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4.

C. M.

BROWN.

1 WHEREWITH shall I approach the Lord,
And bow before his throne?
Oh! how procure his kind regard,
And for my guilt atone?

2 Shall altars flame, and victims bleed,
And spicy fumes ascend?

Will these my earnest wish succeed,
And make my God my friend?

3 O no, my soul ! 'twere fruitless all ;
Such offerings are vain :

No fatlings from the field or stall
His favor can obtain.

4 To men their rights I must allow,
And proofs of kindness give;

To God with humble reverence bow,
And to his glory live.

5 Hands that are clean, and hearts sincere,

He never will despise ;

And cheerful duty he'll prefer
To costly sacrifice.

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1 WELCOME, Sweet day of rest,
That saw the Lord arise;
Welcome to this reviving breast,
And these rejoicing eyes!

2 The King himself comes near,
And feasts his saints to-day;
Here we may sit, and see him here,
And love, and praise, and pray.

WATTS,

6.

3 One day amidst the place
Where my dear Lord hath been,
Is sweeter than ten thousand days
Of pleasurable sin.

4 My willing soul would stay
In such a frame as this;
And sit and sing herself away
To everlasting bliss.

S. M.

1 COME we that love the Lord,
And let our joys be known:
Join in a song of sweet accord,
And thus surround his throne.

2 The sorrows of the mind

Be banished from the place:
Religion never was designed
To make our pleasures less.

3 The men of grace have found
Glory begun below;

Celestial fruits, on earthly ground,
From faith and hope may grow.

4 Then let our songs abound,
And every tear be dry:

WATTS.

We're marching through Immanuel's ground,
To fairer worlds on high.

7.

L. M. 6 L.

MONTG'Y.

1 SEARCHER of hearts, to thee are known
The inmost secrets of my breast;

At home, abroad, in crowds, alone,

Thou mark'st my rising and my rest,
My thoughts far off through every maze,
Source, stream and issue, all my ways.

2 How from thy presence should I go,
Or whither from thy spirit flee,
Since all above, around, below,
Exist in thine immensity?
If up to heaven I take my way,
I meet thee in eternal day;

3 If in the grave I make my bed

With worms and dust, lo, thou art there;
If, on the wings of morning sped,
Beyond the ocean I repair,

I feel thine all-controlling will,
And thy right hand upholds me still.

4 How precious are thy thoughts of peace,
Oh God, to me! how great the sum !
New every morn, they never cease;
They were, they are, and yet shall come
In number and in compass, more
Than ocean's sand, or ocean's shore.

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1 EARLY, my God, without delay,
I haste to seek thy face,
My thirsty spirit faints away,
Without thy cheering grace.

2 So pilgrims on the scorching sand,
Beneath a burning sky,

Long for a cooling stream at hand,
And they must drink or die.

WATTS.

9.

3 Not life itself, with all its joys,
Can my best passions move,
Nor raise so high my cheerful voice,
As thy forgiving love.

4 Thus till my last expiring day,
I'll bless my God and King;
Thus will I lift my hands to pray,
And tune my lips to sing.

L. M. SPIRIT OF PSALMS.

1 FATHER of spirits! Nature's God!
Our inmost thoughts are known to thee;
Thou, Lord, canst hear each idle word,
And every private action see.

2 Could we on morning's swiftest wings
Pursue our flight through trackless air;
Or dive beneath deep ocean's springs,
Thy presence still would meet us there.
3 In vain may guilt attempt to fly,
Concealed beneath the pall of night;
One glance from thy all-piercing eye
Can kindle darkness into light.

4 Search thou our hearts, and there destroy
Each evil thought, each secret sin;
And fit us for those realms of joy,
Where nought impure shall enter in.

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1 In all my vast concerns with thee,
In vain my soul would try
To shun thy presence, Lord, or flee
The notice of thine eye.

WATTS.

2 Thine ali-surrounding sight surveys
My rising and my rest;

My public walks, my private ways,
And secrets of my breast.

3 My thoughts lie open to the Lord,
Before they're formed within;
And ere my lips pronounce the word,
'He knows the sense I mean.

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4 O wond'rous knowledge, deep and high,
Where can a creature hide?
Within thy circling arms I lie,
Beset on every side.

5 So let thy grace surround me still,
And like a bulwark prove,
To guard my soul from every ill,
Secured by sovereign love.

11.

C. M.

HEGINBOTHAM.

1 My soul shall praise thee, O my God!

Through all my mortal days;

And to eternity prolong

Thy vast, thy boundless praise.

2 In each bright hour of peace and hope,
Be this my sweet employ:
Devotion heightens all my bliss,
And sanctifies my joy.

3 When gloomy care or keen distress
Invade my throbbing breast,

My tongue shall learn to speak thy praise,
And soothe my pains to rest.

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