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WEET is the work, my God, my King!
2 Sweet is the day of sacred rest:
3 And I shall share a glorious part,
4 Then shall I see, and hear and know
And ev'ry power find sweet employ
WEET is the work, O Lord,
To praise Thy name, and hear Thy word,
2 Sweet, at the dawning light,
Thy boundless love to tell;
And, when approach the shades of night,
3 Sweet, on this day of rest,
To join in heart and voice
With those who love and serve Thee best, And in Thy name rejoice.
4 To songs of praise and joy
That such may be our blest employ
AREQUENT the day of God returns,
And yet how slow devotion burns,
2 Accept our faint attempts to love;
3 Increase, O Lord, our faith and hope,
Where the assembly ne'er breaks up,
4 Where we shall breathe in heavenly air,
DELIGHT IN WORSHIP.
OW pleasant, how divinely fair,
HO Lord of Hosts, Thy dwellings are!
With long desire my spirit faints
2 My flesh would rest in Thine abode;
3 Blest are the saints, who sit on high,
4 Blest are the souls, who find a place
5 Blest are the men whose hearts are set
God is their strength; and through the road They lean upon their helper, God.
E haste to seek Thy face;
ARLY, my God, without delay,
My thirsty spirit faints away,
2 I've seen Thy glory and Thy power
3 Not all the blessings of a feast
4 Not life itself, with all its joys,
Or raise so high my cheerful voice,
ORD of the worlds above,
2 O happy souls that pray
Their constant service there!
And happy they,
Who love the way
To Zion's hill.
8 They go from strength to strength,
OW lovely, how divinely sweet,
O Lord, Thy sacred courts appear!
The glories of Thy presence there.
2 Oh, blest the men, blest their employ, Whom Thine indulgent favors raise To dwell in those abodes of joy,
And sing Thy never-ceasing praise. 3 One day within Thy sacred gate Affords more real joy to me Than thousands in the tents of state; The meanest place is bliss with Thee. 4 God is a sun: our brightest day
From His reviving presence flows; God is a shield through all the way, To guard us from surrounding foes. 5 O Lord of hosts, Thou God of grace, How blest, divinely blest, is he Who trusts Thy love and seeks Thy face, And fixes all his hopes on Thee!
MAIN would my soul with wonder trace
And tell the riches of Thy grace
The merits of Thy blood.
2 With Israel's king, my heart would cry,
Tell me, my Saviour, who am I,