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3 No angry passions move,

fires the breast ;
The prospect of eternal peace,

Bids every trouble rest. 4 O gracious Father, grant

That we this influence feel,
Tbat all we hope, or wish, may be

Subjected to thy will.



C. M.
1 Is there ambition in my heart ?

Search, gracious God, and see ;
Or do I act a haughty part ?

Lord, I appeal to thee.
2 Whate'er thine all-discerning eye

Sees for thy creature fit,
I'll bless the good, and to the ill

Contentedly submit.
3 With humble pleasure let me view

The prosperous and the great ;
Malignant envy let me fly,

And odious self-conceit.
4 Let not despair, nor fell revenge

Be to my bosom known;
O give me tears for others' wo,

And patience for my own!


L. M.

Watts. 1 Blest are the humble souls that see

Their emptiness and poverty ;
Treasures of grace to them are given,
And crowns of joy laid up in heaven.

2 Blest are the men of broken heart,

Who mourn for sin with inward smart,
The love of Christ divinely flows

A healing balm for all their woes.
3 Blest are the meek, who stand afar

and tumult, noise and war,
God will secure their happy state,
And plead their cause against the great.


L. M.

Watts. 1 Thus saith the high and lofty One,

• I sit upon my holy throne;
My name is God—I dwell on high,

Dwell in mine own eternity.
2 · But I descend to worlds below,

On earth I have a mansion too:
The humble spirit and contrite

Is an abode of my delight.
3 · The humble soul my words revive,

I bid the mourning sinner live;
Heal all the broken hearts I find,
And ease the sorrows of the mind.'


C. M.
1 0, what a lovely thing to see

A man of prudent heart;
Whose thoughts, and lips, and life agree

To act the Christian part.
2 When envy, strife and war begin

In little angry souls,
Mark how the sons of peace come in,

And quench the kindling coals.

3 Their minds are humble, mild and meek,

Nor does their anger rise ;
Nor passion move their lips to speak,

Nor pride exalt their eyes. 4 Their lives are prudence mixed with love;

Good works employ their day; They blend the serpent with the dove,

But cast the sting away.


L. M.

SCOTT. 1 Happy the meek, whose gentle breast,

Clear as the summer-evening ray,
Calun as the regions of the blest,

Enjoys on earth celestial day.
2 His heart no broken friendships sting,

No storms his peaceful tent invade;
Hé rests beneath the Almighty wing,

Hostile to none, of none afraid.
3 Spirit of grace! all meek and mild,

Inspire our breasts, our souls possess,
Repel each passion rude and wild,
And bless us, as we aim to bless.


C. M.

Mrs. BARBAÜLD. 1 BLEST is the man whose tender heart

Feels all another's pain;
To whom the supplicating eye

as never raised in vain : 2 Whose breast expands with generous warmth,

A stranger's wo to feel ;
And bleeds in pity o'er the wound

He wants the power to heal.

3 He spreads his kind supporting arms

To every child of grief;
His secret bounty largely flows,

And brings unasked relief.
4 To gentle offices of love,

His feet are never slow;
He views, through mercy's melting eye,

A brother in a foe.


C. M.

DODDRIDGE 1 Father of mercies, send thy grace,

All-powerful from above,
To form in our obedient souls

The image of thy love.
2 O may our sympathizing breasts

That generous pleasure know,
Kindly to share another’s joy,

And weep for others' woe.
3 Whene'er the helpless sons of want

In low distress are laid,
Soft be our hearts their pains to feel,

And swift our hands to aid.
4 So Jesus looked on wretched man,

When seated in the skies ;
Amidst the glories of that world,

He felt compassion rise.
5 On wings of love the Savior flew,

To raise us from the ground;
And shed his rich and precious blood,

A balm for every wound.

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