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, You blessed souls at rest, That see your Saviour's face, All nations of the earth, Extol the world's great King; With melody and mirth, His glorious praises sing. For he still reigns, 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, My soul bear thou thy part: Sing thou the songs of love. Whose precious blood His love made known. He did in love begin, Renewing thee by grace, Shew'd thee his pleasing face. He did thee heal, By his Son's merit, 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; 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 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 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 oath and word. Shall see thy face, And there thy grace Though sin and death conspire, Still towards thee I'll aspire, And thou dull hearts canst raise. RESIGNATION. [REV. H. CAUNTER.] BUT who shall scan the future? as we pace In our brief passage, jocund though we be, And who shall tell what crosses may annoy; 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. |