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A PSALM OF PRAISE.

[BAXTER.]

YE holy angels bright,

Which stand before God's throne,

And dwell in glorious light,

Praise ye the Lord each one.

You there so nigh

Are much more meet

Than we the feet,
For things so high.

You blessed souls at rest,

That see your Saviour's face,
Whose glory, even the least
Is far above our grace;
God's praises sound,
As in his sight,
With sweet delight
You do abound.

All nations of the earth,

Extol the world's great King;

With melody and mirth,

His glorious praises sing.

For he still reigns,
And will bring low,
The proudest foe,
That him disdains.

Sing forth Jehovah's praise,

Ye saints that on him call:

Magnify him always,

His holy churches all:

In him rejoice;

And there proclaim

His holy name,
With sounding voice.

My soul bear thou thy part:
Triumph in God above;
With a well-tuned heart,

Sing thou the songs of love.
Thou art his own,

Whose precious blood
Shed for thy good,

His love made known.

He did in love begin,

Renewing thee by grace,
Forgiving all thy sin,

Shew'd thee his pleasing face.

He did thee heal,

By his Son's merit,
And by his Spirit,
For glory seal.

In saddest thoughts and grief,

In sickness, fears, and pain,

I cried for his relief,

And it was not in vain.

He heard with speed;
And still I found
Mercy abound,
In time of need.

Let not his praises grow

On prosperous heights alone;

But in the vales below,

Let his great love be known.

Let no distress,

Curb and controul

My winged soul,

And praise suppress.

Let not the fear or smart
Of his chastising rod,
Take off my fervent heart,
From praising my dear God.
Whate'er I feel,

Still let me bring

This offering,

And to him kneel.

Though I lose friends and wealth, And bear reproach and shame, Though I lose ease and health, Still let me praise God's name. That fear and pain,

Which would destroy
My thanks and joy,
Do thou restrain.

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Though sin would make me doubt, And fill my soul with fears; Though God seems to shut out,

My daily cries and tears:

By no such frost

Of sad delays,

Let thy sweet praise

Be nipp'd and lost.

Away, distrustful care!
I have thy promise, Lord,
To banish all despair,

I have thy oath and word.
And therefore I

Shall see thy face,

And there thy grace
Shall magnify.

Though sin and death conspire,
To rob thee of thy praise,

Still towards thee I'll aspire,

And thou dull hearts canst raise.

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RESIGNATION.

[REV. H. CAUNTER.]

BUT who shall scan the future? as we pace
Along life's chequered route, we feel, we see,
On this world's surface, grief's abiding place,
All that there is of bliss or misery.

In our brief passage, jocund though we be,
Time soon may drug with pain our draught of joy:
Dark is the prospect of futurity,

And who shall tell what crosses may annoy;
What cares in comfort's spring may mix their foul alloy!
No one can know to what his days may tend,
Whether or smooth or rough his course shall run,
Or how this mortal pilgrimage may end,
So darkly is the web of being spun.
But God's decrees are wise; and if our sun
Of happiness grow dim, still wherefore fear?
That light which only in this world begun,
Will brighter shine in an eternal sphere,
Where bliss shall glad the more,the less our pleasure here.
Here oft, while joy's fresh flower is full in bloom,
Misfortune's sickle sweeps it to the dust;

Woe springs to vigorous growth on pleasure's tomb, And gives her awful lesson of distrust.

Though peace may reign awhile, the insidious rust Of latent sorrow oft will mar its ray;

But wisdom knows, in all her knowledge just, This world's the transient temple of decay, Here wretchedness and mirth must wear alike away. Where now are Troy and mightier Babylon? On their proud site the earth is wild and bare, O'er thein stern time has a full victory won, And they are mingled with the things that were.

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