Congregation.

Great God, accept their infant songs; To thee alone their praise belongs.

Both.

5 Lord, bid this work of love
Be crown'd with meet success;
May thousands yet unborn

This institution bless:

Thus shall the praise resound to thee, Now, and through all eternity.

HYMN 111. III. 1.

LORY to the Father give,

GLO

God in whom we move and live; Children's prayers he deigns to hear, Children's songs delight his ear.

2 Glory to the Son we bring,

Christ our Prophet, Priest, and King;
Children, raise your sweetest strain
To the Lamb, for he was slain.

3 Glory to the Holy Ghost,

He reclaims the sinner lost;
Children's minds may he inspire,
Touch their tongues with holy fire.

4 Glory in the highest be

To the blessed Trinity,

For the Gospel from above,

For the word that "God is love."

HYMN 112. C. M.

WHEN Jesus left his heavenly throne,

He chose an humble birth;

Like us unhonour'd and unknown,
He came to dwell on earth:

2 Like him, may we be found below,
In wisdom's paths of peace;
Like him, in grace and knowledge grow,
As years and strength increase.

3 Sweet were his words and kind his look,
When mothers round him press'd;
Their infants in his arms he took,
And on his bosom bless'd:

4 Safe from the world's alluring harms,
Beneath his watchful eye,
O, thus encircled in his arms,
May we for ever lie.

HYMN 113. L. M.

LORD, how delightful 'tis to see

A whole assembly worship thee: At once they sing, at once they pray; They hear of heaven, and learn the way. 2 I have been there, and still would go, 'Tis like a little heaven below; Not all that earth and sin can say, Shall tempt me to forget this day,

CHARITABLE OCCASIONS.

HYMN 115. C. M.

BLEST is the man whose softening heart

Feels all another's pain;

To whom the supplicating eye
Is never raised in vain:

2 Whose breast responds with generous warmth,

A stranger's woe to feel;
Who weeps in pity o'er the wound

He wants the power to heal.

3 To gentle offices of love

His feet are never slow;

He views, through mercy's melting eye,
A brother in a foe.

4 To him protection shall be shown;

And mercy, from above,

Descend on those who thus fulfil
The Christian law of love.

In the fair fertile fields above

To ample harvests grow.

3 The mite my willing hands can give, At Jesus' feet I lay;

Grace shall the humble gift receive,
Abounding grace repay.

HYMN 117. III. 3.

LORD of life, all praise excelling,

Thou, in glory unconfined,
Deign'st to make thy humble dwelling
With the poor of humble mind.

2 As thy love, through all creation,
Beams like thy diffusive light;
So the high and humble station

Both are equal in thy sight.

3 Thus thy care, for all providing, Warm'd thy faithful prophet's tongue; Who, the lot of all deciding,

To thy chosen Israel sung:

4 When thy harvest yields thee pleasure, Thou the golden sheaf shalt bind;

To the poor belongs the treasure

Of the scatter'd ears behind:
Chorus. These thy God ordains to bless,
The widow and the fatherless.

5 When thine olive-plants increasing
Pour their plenty o'er thy plain,
Grateful, thou shalt take the blessing,
But not search the bough again:

Chorus. These, &c.

6 When thy favour'd vintage flowing,
Gladdens thine autumnal scene,
Own the bounteous hand bestowing,
But thy vines the poor shall glean.
Chorus. These, &c.

7 Still we read thy word declaring
Mercy, Lord, thine own decree;
Mercy, every sorrow sharing,

Warms the heart resembling thee. 8 Still the orphan and the stranger, Still the widow owns thy care; Screen'd by thee in every danger, Heard by thee in every prayer. Hallelujah, Amen.

5 To thee I raised my humble prayer,
To snatch me from the grave:

I found thine ear not slow to hear,
Nor short thine arm to save.

6 Thou gav'st the word, the winds did cease, The storms obey'd thy will,

The raging sea was hush'd in peace,

And every wave was still.

7 For this, my life, in every state. A life of praise shall be;

And death, when death shall be my fate, Shall join my soul to thee.

WHE

FOR THE SICK.

HYMN 121. L. M.

WHEN dangers, woes, or death are nigh, Past mercies teach me where to fly: Thine arm, Almighty God, can aid, When sickness grieves, and pains invade.

2 To all the various helps of art,
Kindly thy healing power impart;
Bethesda's bath refused to save,
Unless an angel bless'd the wave.
3 All medicines act by thy decree,

Receive commission all from thee;
And not a plant which spreads the plains,
But teems with health, when heaven or-
dains.

4 Clay and Siloam's pool, we find,

At heaven's command restored the blind;
And Jordan's waters hence were seen
To wash a Syrian leper clean.

5 But grant me nobler favours still,
Grant me to know and do thy will;
Purge my foul soul from every stain,
And save me from eternal pain.

6 Can such a wretch for pardon sue?
My crimes, my crimes arise in view,
Arrest my trembling tongue in prayer,
And pour the horrors of despair.

7 But thou, regard my contrite sighs,
My tortured breast, my streaming eyes;
To me thy boundless love extend,
My God, my Father, and my Friend.

8 These lovely names I ne'er could plead,
Had not thy Son vouchsafed to bleed;
His blood procures our fallen race
Admittance to the throne of grace.

9 When sin has shot its poison'd dart, And conscious guilt corrodes the heart, His blood is all-sufficient found

To draw the shaft and heal the wound.

We take the pattern of our praise

From Hezekiah's tongue.

2 The gates of the devouring grave
Are open'd wide in vain,

If he that holds the keys of death,
Command them fast again.

3 When he but speaks the healing word,
Then no disease withstands;
Fevers and plagues obey the Lord,
And fly, as he commands.

4 If half the strings of life should break, He can our frame restore,

And cast our sins behind his back,
And they are found no more.

5 To him I cried, "Thy servant save,
Thou ever good and just;

Thy power can rescue from the grave,
Thy power is all my trust."

6 He heard, and saved my soul from death,
And dried my falling tears;
Now to his praise I'll spend my breath,
Through my remaining years.

ΜΥ

HYMN 123. L. M.

On the same.

Y God, since thou hast raised me up, Thee I'll extol with thankful voice; Restored by thine Almighty power,

With fear before thee I'll rejoice.

2 With troubles worn, with pain opprest, To thee I cried, and thou didst save; Thou didst support my sinking hopes,

My life didst rescue from the grave. 3 Wherefore, ye saints, rejoice with me With me sing praises to the Lord; Call all his goodness to your mind, And all his faithfulness record.

4 His anger is but short: his love,
Which is our life, hath certain stay
Grief may continue for a night,
But joy returns with rising day.

5 Then, what I vow'd in my distress,

In happier hours I now will give, And strive that in my grateful verse,

His praises may for ever live.

6 To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, The blest and undivided Three; The One sole giver of all life, Glory and praise for ever be.

HE

FUNERALS.

HYMN 124. C. M.

EAR what the voice from heaven declares
To those in Christ who die:
Released from all their earthly cares,
They'll reign with him on high.

2 Then why lament departed friends,
Or shake at death's alarms?
Death's but the servant Jesus sends
To call us to his arms.

3 If sin be pardon'd, we're secure,
Death hath no sting beside;

The law gave sin its strength and power;
But Christ, our ransom, died.

4 The graves of all his saints he bless'd,
When in the grave he lay;

And, rising thence, their hopes he raised
To everlasting day.

5 Then, joyfully, while life we have,
To Christ, our life, we'll sing,
"Where is thy victory, O grave?
And where, O death, thy sting?"

WHEN

HYMN 125. C. M.

HEN those we love are snatch'd away
By death's resistless hand,

Our hearts the mournful tribute pay

That friendship must demand.

2 While pity prompts the rising sigh,
With awful power imprest;

May this dread truth, "I too must die,"
Sink deep in every breast.

3 Let this vain world allure no more;
Behold the opening tomb;
It bids us use the present hour,
To-morrow death may come.

4 The voice of this instructive scene
May every heart obey;
Nor be the faithful warning vain
Which calls to watch and pray.

5 O let us to that Saviour fly,

Whose arm alone can save:
Then shall our hopes ascend on high,
And triumph o'er the grave.

HYMN 126. C. M.

Death of a Young Person.

HOW short the race our friend has run,

Cut down in all his bloom:.

The course but yesterday begun

Now finish'd in the tomb.

2 Thou joyous youth, hence learn how soon Thy years may end their flight: Long, long before life's brilliant noon

May come death's gloomy night.

3 To serve thy God no longer wait,

To-day his voice regard;
To-morrow, mercy's open gate
May be for ever barr'd.

4 And thus the Lord reveals his grace,
Thy youthful love to gain :

The soul that early seeks my face,
Shall never seek in vain.

HYMN 128. III. 1.

SINNERS, turn, why will ye die?

God, your Maker, asks you why: God, who did your being give, Made you with himself to live: He the fatal cause demands, Asks the works of his own hands: Why, ye thankless creatures, why Will ye cross his love, and die? 2 Sinners, turn, why will ye die? God, your Saviour, asks you why: He, who did your souls retrieve, Died himself that ye might live. Will you let him die in vain? Crucify your Lord again? Why, ye ransom'd sinners, why Will ye slight his grace, and die?

3 Sinners, turn, why will ye die? God, the Spirit, asks you why: He who all your lives hath strove,

Woo'd you to embrace his love.
Will not his
ye
receive?
grace
Will ye still refuse to live?
O, ye dying sinners, why,
Why will ye for ever die?

HYMN 129. III. 1.

HASTEN, sinner, to be wise;

Stay not for the morrow's sun:
Wisdom, if you still despise,

Harder is it to be won.

2 Hasten, mercy to implore;
Stay not for the morrow's sun;
Lest thy season should be o'er,
Ere this evening's stage be run.
3 Hasten, sinner, to return;

Stay not for the morrow's sun;
Lest thy lamp should cease to burn,
Ere salvation's work is done.

4 Hasten, sinner, to be blest;

Stay not for the morrow's sun;
Lest perdition thee arrest,
Ere the morrow is begun.

HYMN 130. II. 3.

PEACE, troubled soul, whose plaintive

moan

Hath taught each scene the note of woe;
Cease thy complaint, suppress thy groan,
And let thy tears forget to flow:
Behold, the precious balm is found,
To lull thy pain, and heal thy wound.
2 Come, freely come, by sin opprest,
On Jesus cast thy weighty load;
In him thy refuge find, thy rest,

Safe in the mercy of thy God:
Thy God's thy Saviour, glorious word;
O hear, believe, and bless the Lord.

HYMN 131. S. M.

Rev. xxii. 17-20.

HE Spirit, in our hearts,

THE

Is whispering, sinner, Come:

The Bride, the Church of Christ, proclaims To all his children, Come.

2 Let him that heareth say

To all about him, Come:
Let him that thirsts for righteousness
To Christ, the fountain, come.

3 Yes, whosoever will,

O let him freely come, And freely drink the stream of life: 'Tis Jesus bids him come.