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3 Which of the stocks and stones they trust
4 Ye nations, know the living God,
1 My thoughts, before they are my ōwn,
3 Oh may these thoughts possess my breast,
PSALM 146. L. P. M.
1 I'll praise my Maker with my breath; And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nòbler powers; My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last, Or immortality endures.
2 Why should I make a man my trust? Princes must die, and turn to dust:
Vain is the help of flesh and blood;
Nor can they make their promise good.
3 Happy the man whose hopes rely
HYMN 142, BOOK 1.
1 Like sheep we went astray,
2 How dreadful was the hour,
When God our wand'rings laid,
3 How glorious was the grace,
When Christ sustain'd the stroke?
His life and blood the shepherd pays,
HYMN 14, BOOK II.
8. 1 Welcome, sweet day of rest, That saw the Lord arise; Welcome to this reviving breast, And these rejoicing eyes! 2 One day amidst the place
Where my dear God hath been, Is sweeter than ten thousand days Of pleasurable sin.
3 My willing soul would stay
HYMN 76, BOOK 11.
1 Hosanna to the Prince of light,
2 Death is no more the king of dread, Since our Immanuel rose;
He took the tyrant's sting away,
3 Raise your devotion, · mortal tongues,— To reach his blest abode :
Sweet be the accents of your songs,
4 Bright angels! - strike your loudest strings,
10. HYMN 77, Book II.
1 Stand up, my soul, shake off thy fears,
2 Hell and thy sins resist thy course,
But hell and sin are vanquish'd foes;
And sung the triumph when he rose. 3 Then let my soul march boldly on,
Press forward to the heav'nly gate;
And glitt❜ring robes for conqu'rors wait. 4 There shall I wear a starry crown,
And triumph in almighty grace; While all the armies of the skies,
Join in my glorious Leader's praise.
HYMN 108, BOOK II.
1 Come, let us lift our joyful eyes
2 Once 'twas the seat of dreadful wrath,
3 Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood, That calm'd.. his frowning face, That sprinkl'd o'er the burning throne, And turn'd the wrath to grace.
4 To thee ten thousand thanks we bring,
HYMN 116, Book II.
1 How can I sink with such a prop As my eternal God,
Who bears the earth's huge pillars up,
2 How can I die while Jesus lives,
3 All that I am, and all I have,
Whate'er my duty bids me give,
4 Yet, if I might make some reserve,
I love my God with zeal so great
2 What tho' the spicy breezes
4 Waft, waft, ye winds, his story,