3 Thanks for mercies past receive ;
Pardon of our sins renew;
Teach us, henceforth, how to live
With eternity in view;
Bless thy word to young and old,
Fill us with a Saviour's love,
And, when life's short tale is told,
May we dwell with thee above.
1 GOD of the changing year, whose arm of power
In safety leads through danger's darkest hour,
Here in thy temple bow thy creatures down,
To bless thy mercy, and thy might to own.
2 Thine are the beams that cheer us on our way,
And pour around the gladdening light of day;
Thine is the night, and the fair orbs that shine
To cheer its hours of darkness - all are thine.
3 If round our path the thorns of sorrow grew,
And mortal friends were faithless, thou wert true.
Did sickness shake the frame, or anguish tear
The wounded spirit, thou wert present there.
4 Yet when our hearts review departed days,
How vast thy mercies! how remiss our praise!
Well may we dread thine awful eye to meet,
Bend at thy throne, and worship at thy feet.
5 0, lend thine ear, and lift our voice to thee;
Where'er we dwell, still let thy mercy be;
From year to year, still nearer to thy shrine
Draw our frail hearts, and make them wholly thine.
1 ETERNAL Source of every joy!
Well may thy praise our lips employ,
While in thy temple we appear,
Whose goodness crowns the circling year.
2 Wide as the wheels of nature roll,
Thy hand supports the steady pole;
The sun is taught by thee to rise,
And darkness when to veil the skies.
3 Seasons, and months, and weeks, and days,
Demand successive songs of praise ;
Still be the cheerful homage paid,
With opening light and evening shade.
4 0, may our more harmonious tongues
In worlds unknown pursue the songs;
And in those brighter courts adore,
Where days and years revolve no more!
Missionary Hymn.
1 FROM Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver
Their land from error's chain.
2 What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strewn ;
The heathen, in his blindness,
Bows down to wood and stone.
3 Shall we, whose souls are lighted
By wisdom from on high-
Shall we to men benighted
The lamp of life deny?
Salvation! O, salvation!
The joyful sound proclaim,
Till earth's remotest nation
Has learnt Messiah's name.
1 BREAK forth in song, ye trees,
As, through your tops, the breeze
Sweeps from the sea;
For on its rushing wings,
To your cool shades and springs
That breeze a people brings,
Exiled, though free.
2 Ye sister hills, lay down
Of ancient oaks your crown,
In homage due ;
These are the great of earth,
Great, not by kingly birth,
Great in their well-proved worth,
Firm hearts and true.
3 These are the living lights,
That from your bold, green heights,
Shall shine afar,
Till they who name the name
Of Freedom to the flame
Come, as the Magi came
Towards Bethlehem's star.
4 Gone are those great and good,
Who here in peril stood
And raised their hymn.
|