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56. L. M. BROWNE.

Give thanks to God in all things.
1 GREAT God! our joyful thanks to thee,

Shall, like thy gifts, continual be:
In constant streams thy bounty flows,

Nor end nor interruption knows. 2 From thee our comforts all arise,

Our num'rous wants thy hand supplies,
Nor can we ever, Lord, be poor,

Who live on thine exhaustless store. 3 If what we ask our God denies,

It is because thou’rt good and wise ;
And ills, which cause our hearts to mouru,

Thou canst to real blessings turn.
4 Deep, Lord, upon our thankful breast

Let all thy favours be imprest;
That we may never more forget

The whole, or any single debt.
5 May we with grateful hearts each day

For all thy gifts our praises pay ;
And still delighted may we be
In all things to give thanks to thee!

L, M.


Miss Roscoe.
1 Iow rich the blessings, O my God,

Which teach this grateful heart to glow;
How kindly pour'd and free bestow'd,

The rivers of thy mercy flow!
2 How calmly rolls the stream of life ;

Secure in thine immortal trust, .

The soul has hush'd her secret strife,

Nor longer shudders at the dust.
3 Though sorrow's cloud awhile o'ercast

The dawn of earthly hope and joy,
She knows that it must soon be past,

And will unveil eternity.
4 Then virtue's humble toil and prayer

Shall stand acknowledged at thy throne,
Triumphant over earthly care,
And the blest record thou wilt own.

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Prayer to the supreme being. 1 WHILE raptur'd saints adoring stand,

And burning seraphs sing, Trembling I wait thy just command,

My father, God, and king! 2 Thou source of everlasting good,

Whose bounty flows to all ! Thy pow'r restrains the swelling flood ;

O hear! to thee I call.
3 Thy presence fills unbounded space,

Directs the reas’ning mind :
Thro' nature's various parts we trace

Her God: her God we find. 4 Thy wisdom paints each springing flow'r,

And shades the blushing green; Thy goodness falls in ev'ry show'r,

In ev'ry show'r is seen.

5 When'er thy wisdom thinks it fit

To shake this clay built frame,
Teach me with patience to submit,

With patience bless thy name. 6 Let not the stream of partial ill

My better thoughts betray,
Let truth and reason guide me still

Through virtue's peaceful way.

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1 FATHER supreme! thy gracious pow'r

On ev'ry hand we see ;
O may the blessings of each hour

Lead all our thoughts to thee.
2 If on the wings of inorn we 'speed

To earth's remotest bound,
Thy right hand will our footsteps lead,

Thine arm our path surround.
3 Thy pow'r is in the ocean deeps,

And reaches to the skies ;


of mercy never sleeps,
Thy goodness never dies.
4 From morn till noon, till latest eve

The hand of God we see ;
And all the blessings we receive,

Ceaseless proceed from thee.
5 In all the various scenes of time,

On thee our hopes depend;
In ev'ry age, in ev'ry clime,
Qur Father and our Friend.

L. M.


DODDRIDGE. God the author of our comforts, our deliverances, and

our hopes.
1 GREAT Source of life ! our souls confess

The various riches of thy grace ;
Crown'd with thy mercy, we rejoice,

And in thy praise exalt our voice. 2 By thee the vault of heav’n was spread;

By thee the earth's foundations laid ;
And all the scenes of man's abode

Proclaim a wise and gracious God. 3 Thy quick’ning hand restores our breath,

When trembling on the verge of death;
Gently it wipes away our tears,

Aod lengthens life to future years. 4 Our lives are sacred to the LORD;

Kindld by him, by hiin restord :
And, while our hours renew their race,

May sin no more these hours disgrace! 5 So when, at length, by thee we're led

Through unknown regions of the dead,
With hope triumphant may we move
To scenes of nobler life above !


L. M.

The bounty of Providence improved.
1 FATHER of lights! we sing thy name,

Who kindl’st up the lamp of day;
Wide as he spreads his golden flame,
His beams thy pow'r 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,

Revive the grass, and swell the grain. 3 Thro' the wide world thy bounties spread;

Yet millions of our guilty race,
Though by thy daily bounty fed,

Affront thy law, and spurn 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 pray’r. 5 So shall our suns more grateful shine,

And show'rs in sweeter drops shall fall,
When all our hearts and lives are thine,
And thou, O God! enjoy'd in ail.

62. 8 & 6s. M. H. MOORE.

The love of God.
1 My God! thy boundless love I praise ;
How bright on high its glories blaze !

How sweetly bloom below!
It streams from thine eternal throne;
Thro' heaven its joys forever run,

And o’er the earth they flow.
2 'Tis love that paints the purple morn,
And bids the clouds, in air upborne,

Their genial drops distil ;
In ev'ry vernal beam it glows,
And breathes in ev'ry gale that blows,

And glides in ev'ry rill.

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