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3 Which of the stocks and stones they trust
Can give them showers of rain?
In vain they worship glitt'ring dust,
And pray to gold in vain.

4 Ye nations, know the living God,
Serve him with faith and fear;
He makes the churches his abode,
And claims your honours there.
PSALM 139. L. M.

5.

1 My thoughts, before they are my ōwn,
Are to my God distinctly known;
He knows the words I mean to speak,
Ere from my op'ning lips they break.
2 Amazing knowledge, vast and great!
What large extent! what lofty height!
My soul, with all the powers I boast,
Is in the boundless prospect lost.

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3 Oh may these thoughts possess my breast,
Where'er I róve, where'er I rèst
Nor let my weaker passions dare..
Consent to sin, for God is there.

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PSALM 146. L. P. M.

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6.

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;
Their breath departs, their pomp and pow'r,
And thoughts all vanish in an hour;

Nor can they make their promise good.

3 Happy the man whose hopes rely
On Israel's God; he made the sky,
And earth, and seas, with all their train;
His truth forever stands secure;
He saves th' opprest, he feeds the poor;
And none shall find his promise vain.

7.

HYMN 142, BOOK 1.

;

1 Like sheep we went astray,
And broke the fold of God
Each wand'ring in a diff'rent way,
But all the downward road.

2 How dreadful was the hour,

When God our wand'rings laid,
And did at once his vengeance pour
Upon the Shepherd's head!

3 How glorious was the grace,

When Christ sustain'd the stroke?

His life and blood the shepherd pays,
A ransom for the flock.

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
In such a frame as this;
And sit and sing herself away
To everlasting bliss.

9.

HYMN 76, BOOK 11.

1 Hosanna to the Prince of light,
That cloth'd himself in clay;
Enter'd the iron gates of death,
And tore the bars away.

2 Death is no more the king of dread, Since our Immanuel rose;

He took the tyrant's sting away,
And spoil'd our hellish foes.

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3 Raise your devotion, · mortal tongues,— To reach his blest abode :

Sweet be the accents of your songs,
To our incarnate God.

4 Bright angels! - strike your loudest strings,
Your sweetest voices raise ;
Let heav'n and all created things
Sound our Immanuel's praise.

10. HYMN 77, Book II.

1 Stand up, my soul, shake off thy fears,
And gird the gospel armour on ;
March to the gates of endless joy,
Where thy great Captain-Saviour's gone.

2 Hell and thy sins resist thy course,

But hell and sin are vanquish'd foes;
Thy Jesus nail'd them to the cross,

And sung the triumph when he rose. 3 Then let my soul march boldly on,

Press forward to the heav'nly gate;
There peace and joy eternal reign,

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.

11.

HYMN 108, BOOK II.

1 Come, let us lift our joyful eyes
Up to the courts above,
And smile to see our Father there,
Upon a throne of love.

2 Once 'twas the seat of dreadful wrath,
And shot devouring flame:
Our God appear'd consuming fire,
And Veng'ance was his name.

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,
Great Advocate on high;
And glory to th' eternal King
That lays his fury by.

12.

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,
And spreads the heav'ns abroad.

2 How can I die while Jesus lives,
Who rose and left the dead?
Pardon and grace my soul receives
From mine exalted head.

3 All that I am, and all I have,
Shall be forever thine :

Whate'er my duty bids me give,
My cheerful hands resign.

4 Yet, if I might make some reserve,
And duty did not call,

I love my God with zeal so great
That I should give him all.

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2 What tho' the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle,
Tho' every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
3 Shall we whose souls are lighted
With wisdom from on high,
Shall we to men benighted
The lamp of life deny?
(0°) Salvation! O Salvation!
The joyful sound proclaim,
Till earth's remotest nation
Has learn'd Messiah's name.

4 Waft, waft, ye winds, his story,
And you, ye waters, roll,
Till, like a sea of glory,
It spreads from pole to pole;
Till o'er our ransom'd nature,
The lamb for sinners slain,
Redeemer, King, Creator,
In bliss returns to reign.

Bishop Heber.

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