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Our hearts, to wifdom's facred ways,
That we may learn to live and die.



C. M. [S. STENNETT.] The Death of Infants.

'HY life, I read, my dearest Lord,
With transport all divine;
Thine image trace in ev'ry word,
Thy love in ev'ry line.

2 Methinks I fee a thousand charms,
Spread o'er thy lovely face;
When Infants in thy tender arms,
Receive the fmiling grace.


I take thefe tender lambs, faid he,
And lay them on my breast;
Protection they fhall find in me;
In me, be ever bleft.

4 Death may the bands of life unloose,
But can't diffolve my love;

Millions of Infant fouls compofe
The family above.

5 Their feeble frames my pow'r shall raise, And mould with heav'nly fkill;

I'll give them tongues to fing my praise;
And hands to do my will.

6 His words the happy parents hear,
And fhout with joys divine;
Dear Saviour, all we have and are,
Shall be forever thine.




On the Death of Children. Emourning friends, whofe ftreaming tears, Flow o'er your children dead, Say not, in transports of defpair, That all your hopes are fled.

2. While cleaving to that darling duft, In fond diftrefs you lie;

Rife, and with joy and rev'rence view,
A heav'nly parent nigh.

3 Tho' your young branches torn away,
Like wither'd trunks you ftand;
With fairer verdure fhall they bloom,
Touch'd by th' Almighty's hand.

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4 I'll give the mourners, faith the Lord,
In my own house a place;
No names of daughters and of-fons,
Can yield fo high a gracc.

5 Tranfient and vain is ev'ry hope,
A rifing race could give :
In endless honor and delight,
My children all fhall live.


C. M. [DODDRIDGE.] Comfort in Trouble. My God the cov'naut of thy love,

Abides forever fure;

And in its matchlefs grace I feel,
My happinefs fecure.

2 What tho' my house be not with thee, As nature could defire ;

To nobler joys than nature gives
Thy fervants all afpire.

3 Since thou, the everlasting God,
My father art become ;
Jefus my guardian, and my friend,
And heav'n my final home.

4 I welcome all thy fov'reign will; For all that will is love;


And when I know not what thou doft,
I wait the light above.

5 Thy cov❜nant the laft accent claims,
Of this poor fault'ring tongue;
And that fhall the first notes employ,
Of my celeftial fong.



Fear not, it is I.

AND art thou, with us, gracious Lord? To diffipate our fear?"

Doft thou proclaim thyfelf our God?
Our God forever near?

2 Doft thou a father's bowels feel? For all thy humble faints?

And in fuch friendly accents fpeak

To footh their fad complaints?

3 Why droops our hearts? Why flow our eyes? While fuch a voice we hear?

Why rise our forrows, and our fears?
While fuch a friend is near?


To all thefe other favors add,
A heart to trust thy word;

And death itfeif fhall hear us fing,
While refting on the Lord.




ND can my heart afpire so high,
To fay, my father God!
Lord at thy feet I fain would lie,
And learn to kiss the rod.

2 I would fubmit to all thy will,
For thou art good and wife;
Let ev'ry anxious thought be fill,
Nor one faint murmur rise.


3 Thy love can cheer the darkfome gloom,


And bid me wait ferene;

Till hopes and joys immortal bloom,
And brighten all the fcene.

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My father, O permit my heart.
To plead her humble claim,
And ask the bliss these words impart,
In my Redeemer's name.



Confolation in forrow.
THRO' all the various, shifting fcene,
Of life's mistaken ill, or good;
Thy hand O God, conducts unfeen,
The beautiful viciffitude.

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Thou giveft with paternal care,
Howe'er unjustly we complain,
To each their neceffary fhare,
Of joy and forrow, health and pain.

3 Truft we to youth, or friends, or pow'r ?
Fix we on this terreftrial ball?
When moft fecure, the coming hour,
If thou fee fit, may blast them all.

4 When lowest funk, with grief and fhame
Fill'd with affliction's bitter cup;
Loft to relations, friends, and fame,
Thy pow'rful hand can raife us up.
5 Thy pow'rful confolations cheer ;
Thy fmiles fupprefs the deep fetch'd figh!
Thy hand can dry the trickling tear,
That fecret wets the widow's eye!


6 All things on earth, and all in heav'n, On thy eternal will depend ;

And all for greater good were giv❜n,
And all, fhall in thy glory end."

HYMN CCXXX. L. M. [S. STENNETT.] Thanksgiving Hymn.

TO God the univerfal King,

Let all mankind their tribute bring All that have breath your voices raife, Ir. fongs of never ceafing praife.

2 The fpacious earth on which we tread,
And wider heav'ns stretch'd o'er our head,
A large and folemn temple frame,
To celebrate its builder's name.

3 Here the bright fun that rules the day,
As thro' the fky he makes his way;
To all the world proclalms abroad,
The boundless fov'reignty of God.

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