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43 (506).


L. M.

WEET is the work, my God, my King!
To praise Thy name, give thanks and sing;
To show Thy love by morning light,
And talk of all Thy truth at night.

2 Sweet is the day of sacred rest:
No mortal care shall fill my breast;
My heart shall triumph in the Lord,
And bless His works, and bless His word.

3 And I shall share a glorious part,
When grace has well refined my heart,
When doubts and fears no more remain
To break my inward peace again.

4 Then shall I see, and hear and know
All I desired or wish'd below;

And ev'ry power find sweet employ
In that eternal world of joy.



WEET is the work, O Lord,
Thy glorious acts to sing.

S. M.

To praise Thy name, and hear Thy word,
And grateful offerings bring.

2 Sweet, at the dawning light,

Thy boundless love to tell;

And, when approach the shades of night,
Still on the theme to dwell.

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
Be every Sabbath given,

That such may be our blest employ
Eternally in heaven.

45 (938).

C. M.

AREQUENT the day of God returns,
To shed its quick'ning beams;

And yet how slow devotion burns,
How languid are its flames.

2 Accept our faint attempts to love;
Our frailties, Lord, forgive:
We would be like Thy saints above,
And praise Thee while we live.

3 Increase, O Lord, our faith and hope,
And fit us to ascend

Where the assembly ne'er breaks up,
The Sabbath ne'er shall end;

4 Where we shall breathe in heavenly air,
With heavenly lustre shine;
Before the throne of God appear,
And feast on love divine.



OW pleasant, how divinely fair,

L. M

HO Lord of Hosts, Thy dwellings are!

With long desire my spirit faints
To meet th' assemblies of Thy saints.

2 My flesh would rest in Thine abode;
My panting heart cries out for God:
My God! my King! why should I be
So far from all my joy and Thee!

3 Blest are the saints, who sit on high,
Around Thy throne above the sky:
Thy brightest glories shine above,
And all their work is praise and love.

4 Blest are the souls, who find a place
Within the temple of Thy grace;
There they behold Thy gentler rays,
And seek Thy face, and learn Thy praise.

5 Blest are the men whose hearts are set
To find the way to Zion's gate:

God is their strength; and through the road They lean upon their helper, God.

47 (504).

E haste to seek Thy face;

ARLY, my God, without delay,

My thirsty spirit faints away,
Without Thy cheering grace.

2 I've seen Thy glory and Thy power
Through all Thy temple shine:
My God, repeat that heavenly hour,
That vision so divine.

3 Not all the blessings of a feast
Can please my soul so well,
As when Thy richer grace I taste,
And in Thy presence dwell.

C. M.

4 Not life itself, with all its joys,
Can my best passions move,

Or raise so high my cheerful voice,
As Thy forgiving love.

48 (500).


ORD of the worlds above,
How pleasant and how fair
The dwellings of Thy love,
Thine earthly temples are!
To Thine abode
My heart aspires,
With warm desires
To see my God.

2 O happy souls that pray
Where God appoints to hear!
O happy men that pay

Their constant service there!
They praise Thee still!

And happy they,

Who love the way

To Zion's hill.

H. M.

8 They go from strength to strength,
Through this dark vale of tears,
Till each arrives at length,
Till each in heaven appears:
O glorious seat,
When God our King
Shall thither bring
Our willing feet!

49 (491).

OW lovely, how divinely sweet,

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O Lord, Thy sacred courts appear!
Fain would my longing passions meet

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!

50 (489).

C. M.

MAIN would my soul with wonder trace
Thy mercies, O my God;

And tell the riches of Thy grace

The merits of Thy blood.

2 With Israel's king, my heart would cry,
While I review Thy ways,

Tell me, my Saviour, who am I,
That I should see Thy face?

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