HYMN XXXIX.—(P. M.) 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.
Shall we, whose souls are lighted
With wisdom from on high,
Shall we to men benighted
The lamp of life deny?
Salvation! Oh, salvation!
The joyful sound proclaim,
Till earth's remotest nation
Has learnt Messiah's name!
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.
HYMN XL.-(P. M.)
THOU whose almighty word
Chaos and darkness heard,
And took their flight;
Hear us, we humbly pray,
And where the Gospel's day
Sheds not its glorious ray
Let there be light.
Thou who didst come to bring
On thy protecting wing
Healing and light,
Light to the inly blind,
Health to the sick in mind;
Oh, now to all mankind
Let there be light.
Spirit of truth and love,
Life-giving holy Dove,
Speed forth thy flight;
Move o'er the water's face,
Bearing the lamp of grace,
And in earth's darkest place
Let there be light.
O holy and blessed
And glorious Trinity,
Grace, Love, and Might,
Boundless as ocean's tide
Rolling in fullest pride
O'er the world, far and wide,
Let there be light.
HYMN XLI.—(P. M.)
O'ER the realms of heathen darkness,
Let the eye of pity gaze,
See the kindreds of the people,
Lost in sin's bewild'ring maze :
Darkness brooding
On the face of all the earth.
Light of them that sit in darkness,
Rise and shine, thy blessings bring:
Light, to lighten all the Gentiles !
Rise with healing in thy wing:
To thy brightness
Let all kings and nations come.
May the heathen, now adoring
Idol-gods of wood and stone,
Come, and worshipping before him,
Serve the living God alone:
Let thy glory
Fill the earth, as floods the sea.
Thou, to whom all pow'r is giv'n,
Speak the word;-at thy command
Let the company of preachers
Spread thy name from land to land:
Lord! be with them
Alway, to the end of time.
How beauteous are their feet,
Who stand on Zion's hill;
Who bring salvation on their tongues,
And words of peace reveal!
How happy are our ears, That hear this joyful sound; Which kings and prophets waited for,
And sought, but never found!
How blessed are our eyes,
That see this heavenly light!
Prophets and kings desir'd it long,
But died without the sight.
O Lord, send forth thy truth,
Make known thy name abroad:
Till all the nations shall behold
Their Saviour and their God.
GREAT God of Abrah'm! hear our prayer;
Let Abrah'm's seed thy mercy share:
Oh may they now at length return,
And look on Him they pierc'd, and mourn.
Remember Jacob's flock of old:
Bring home the wand'rers to thy fold:
Remember too thy promis'd word,
"Israel at last shall seek the Lord.”
Though outcasts still, estrang'd from thee,
Cut off from their own olive-tree,
Why should they longer so remain ?
For thou canst graft them in again.
Lord, put thy law within their hearts,
And write it in their inward parts:
The veil of darkness rend in two,
Which hides Messiah from their view.
Oh haste the day, foretold so long,
When Jew and Greek (a glorious throng)
One House shall seek, one Prayer shall pour,
And one Redeemer shall adore.
HYMN XLIV.-(L. M.)
TEACH US, O Lord! thy yoke to wear,
Delighting in thy perfect will,
Gladly each other's woes to bear,
And thus thy law of love fulfil.
Teach us, with glad ungrudging heart,
As thou hast bless'd our various store,
From our abundance to impart
A cheerful offering to the poor.
To thee our all devoted be,
In whom we breathe, and move, and live: Freely we have receiv'd from thee!
Oh may we now as freely give.
And while we thus obey thy word,
And ev'ry call of want relieve,
Still may we find it, gracious Lord!
More bless'd to give, than to receive.
HYMN XLV. (c. M.)
FATHER of mercies, send thy grace
All powerful from above,
To form in our obedient souls
The image of thy love.
O may our sympathizing breasts
The gen'rous pleasure know,
Freely to share in others' joys,
And weep for others' woe.
Whene'er the helpless sons of grief
In low distress are laid,
Soft be our hearts their pains to feel,
And swift our hands to aid.
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