ALFRETON.

William Beastall.

9:2

2

1 0 LORD of heaven, and earth, and sea!
To thee all praise and glory be;
How shall we show our love to thee,
Who givést all-who givést all?

2 The golden sunshine, vernal air,
Sweet flowers and fruit thy love declare;
When harvests ripen, thou art there,
Who givést all-who givést all.

3 For peaceful homes and healthful days,
For all the blessings earth displays,
We owe thee thankfulness and praise,
Who givést all-who givést all.

4 For souls redeemed, for sins forgiven,
For means of grace and hopes of heaven,
What can to thee, O Lord! be given,
Who givést all-who givést all.

5 We lose what on ourselves we spend,
We have, as treasures without end,
Whatever, Lord! to thee we lend,
Who givést all-who givést all?

G Whatever, Lord! we lend to thee,
Repaid a thousandfold will be;
Then gladly will we give to thee,
Who givést all-who givést all.
Christopher Wordsworth, 1865.

2 His heart contrives, for their relief,
More good than his own hands can do;
He, in the time of general grief,
Shall find the Lord has pity too.

3 His soul shall live secure on earth,
With secret blessings on his head,
When drought, and pestilence, and dearth
Around him multiply their dead.

4 Or, if he languish on his couch,

God will pronounce his sins forgiven, Will save him with a healing touch, Or take his willing soul to heaven. Isaac Watts, 1719.

650.

(1277.)

Jesus, the Model of Benevolence.
1 WHEN Jesus dwelt in mortal clay,
What were his works from day to day,
But miracles of power and grace,
That spread salvation through our race?

2 Teach us, O Lord! to keep in view
Thy pattern, and thy steps pursue;
Let alms bestowed, let kindness done,
Be witnessed by each rolling sun.

3 That man may last, but never lives,
Who much receives, but nothing gives,
Whom none can love, whom none can
Creation's blot, creation's blank: [thank,

4 But he, who marks, from day to day,
In generous acts his radiant way,
Treads the same path the Saviour trod,
The path to glory and to God.

Thomas Gibbons, 1784

ror keep it free.

1 HERE, in thy name, eternal God!
We build this earthly house for thee;
Oh! choose it for thy fixed abode,
From every error keep it free.

2 Here, when thy messengers proclaim
The blessed gospel of thy Son,
Still, by the power of his great name,
Be mighty signs and wonders done.

3 When children's voices raise the song,-
"Hosanna!"-to their heavenly King,
Let heaven with earth the strain prolong;
"Hosanna!"-let the angels sing.

4 But will, indeed, Jehovah deign

Here to abide, no transient guest? Here will the world's Redeemer reign, And here the Holy Spirit rest?

5 That glory never hence depart!

Yet choose not, Lord! this house alone; Thy kingdom come to every heart! In every bosom fix thy throne!

3 And, when this temple, "made with
Upon its firm foundation stands, [hands,"
Oh! may we all, with loving heart,
In nobler building bear a part:

4 Where every polished stone shall be
A human soul won back to thee;
All resting upon Christ alone,—
The chief and precious Corner-Stone.
5 So, when our toil is o'er at last,
All labor in both temples passed,
Oh! may it then by works be shown.
That faith hath laid this corner-stone.
Mrs. Catherine H. Johnson, 1866.
God's great Temple.

653.

(1287.)

1 THE perfect world, by Adam trod,
Was the first temple,-built by God;
His fiat laid the corner-stone,
And heaved its pillars, one by one.
2 He hung its starry roof on high-
The broad, illimitable sky;

He spread its pavement, green and bright,
And curtained it with morning light.

3 The mountains in their places stood,
The sea, the sky, and "all was good;"
And, when its first pure praises rang,
The "morning stars together sang.'

4 Lord, 't is not ours to make the sea
And earth and sky a house for thee;
But, in thy sight, our offering stands,--
An humbler temple "made with hands."
Nathaniel P. Willis, 1826.

1 PRAISE to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days;
Bounteous Source of every joy!
Let thy praise our tongues employ.
2 For the flocks that roam the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain,
Clouds that drop their fattening dews,
Suns that temperate warmth diffuse;-
3 All that spring, with bounteous hand,
Scatters o'er the smiling land,
All that liberal autumn pours
From her rich o'erflowing stores;--

4 Lord! for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows, and solemn praise;
And, when every blessing 's flown,
Love thee for thyself alone.

9:

1 MY COUNTRY! 't is of thee, Sweet land of Liberty,

Of thee I sing ;

Land, where my fathers died!
Land of the pilgrims' pride!
From every mountain side,
Let freedom ring!

2 My native country! thee,-
Land of the noble, free,-
Thy name - I love;

I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills:
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.

3 Let music swell the breeze,
And ring, from all the trees,
Sweet freedom's song:
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break,—
The sound prolong.

4 Our fathers' God! to thee,
Author of liberty,

To thee we sing :

Long may our land be bright,
With freedom's holy light;
Protect us, by thy might,
Great God, our King!

661.

(1297.)

Samuel F. Smith, 1832.

Our Native Land.

1 God bless our native land! Firm may she ever stand, Through storm and night;

(1299.)

When the wild tempests rave,
Ruler of winds and wave!

Do thou our country save,

By thy great might.

2 For her our prayer shall rise,
To God, above the skies;
On him we wait;
Thou, who art ever nigh,
Guardian with watchful eye!
To thee aloud we cry,
God save the State!

662.

John S. Dwight, 1844.

Thanks for the Harvest.

1 THE God of harvest praise;
In loud thanksgivings, raise
Hand, heart, and voice!
The valleys laugh and sing;
Forests and mountains ring;
The plains their tribute bring;
The streams rejoice.

2 Yea, bless his holy name,
And joyous thanks proclaim
Through all the earth;
To glory in your lot
Is comely; but be not
God's benefits forgot
Amidst your mirth.

3 The God of harvest praise; Hands, hearts, and voices raise, With one accord;

From field to garner throng,
Bearing your sheaves along,
And, in your harvest song

Bless ye the Lord.

(1301.

James Montgomery, 1853.