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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.



S. M.
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 hiin here,
And love, and praise, and pray.

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 :
We're marching through Immanuel's ground,

To fairer worlds on high.

L. M. 6.

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.


C. M.


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.

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.

C. M.


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.

2 Thine alı-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.

4 O wond'rous knowledge, deep and high,

Where can á 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.


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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