H. K. OLIVER.

Praise, Lord, for thee in Zion waits;
Prayer shall besiege thy temple-gates:
All flesh shall to thy throne repair,
And find, through Christ, salvation there.

How blest thy saints! how safely led!
How surely kept! how richly fed!
Saviour of all in earth and sea,
How happy they who rest in thee!

Thy hand sets fast the mighty hills;
Thy voice the troubled ocean stills:
Evening and morning hymn thy praise,
And earth thy bounty wide displays.

The year is with thy goodness crowned;
Thy clouds drop wealth the world around;
Through thee the deserts laugh and sing;
And Nature smiles, and owns her King.

30.

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,

Save in the death of Christ my God: All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.

See! from his head, his hands, his feet, Sorrow and love flow mingled down! Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,

Or thorns compose so rich a crown? Were the whole realm of Nature mine, That were a present far too small : Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all.

The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue, ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim.

The unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's power display,
And publishes to every land
The work of an almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth
Repeats the story of her birth;

While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

32.

God of my life! through all my days
My grateful powers shall sound thy praise;
The song shall wake with opening light,
And warble to the silent night.

When anxious care would break my rest,

And grief would tear my throbbing breast,
Thy tuneful praises raised on high
Shall check the murmur and the sigh.

When Death o'er Nature shall prevail,
And all my powers of language fail,
Joy through my swimming eyes shall break,
And mean the thanks I cannot speak.

Soon shall I learn the exalted strains
Which echo o'er the heavenly plains,
And emulate with joy unknown
The glowing seraphs round thy throne.

33.

-2

Thus far, the Lord hath led me on;
Thus far, his power prolongs my days;
And every evening shall make known
Some fresh memorials of his grace.

I lay my body down to sleep:

Peace is the pillow for my head; While well-appointed angels keep

Their watchful stations round my bed.

Faith in His name forbids my fear:

Oh, may Thy presence ne'er depart! And, in the morning, make me hear The love and kindness of thy heart. Thus, when the night of death shall come, My flesh shall rest beneath the ground, And wait thy voice to rouse my tomb, With sweet salvation in the sound.

Why should we start, and fear to die?
What timorous worms we mortals are!
Death is the gate of endless joy;
And yet we dread to enter there.

The pains, the groans, and dying strife,
Fright our approaching souls away:
Still we shrink back again to life,

Fond of our prison and our clay.

Oh! if my Lord would come and meet,
My soul should stretch her wings in haste,
Fly fearless through Death's iron gate,
Nor feel the terrors as she passed.

Jesus can make a dying-bed

'Feel soft as downy pillows are, While on his breast I lean my head,

And breathe my life out sweetly there.

35.

Sun of my soul, thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if thou be near:
Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide thee from thy servant's eyes!

Abide with me from morn till eve;

For without thee I cannot live:

Abide with me when night is nigh;
For without thee I dare not die.

Thou Framer of the light and dark,
Guide through the tempest thine own bark:
Amid the howling, wintry sea,
We are in port, if we have thee.

Come near and bless us when we wake,
Ere through the world our way we take,
Till in the ocean of thy love
We lose ourselves in heaven above.

Glory to thee, my God, this night,
For all the blessings of the light:
Keep me, oh! keep me, King of kings,
Beneath thine own almighty wings.
Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son,
The ill that I this day have done;
That with the world, myself, and thee,
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.

Be thou my guardian while I sleep;
Thy watchful station near me keep;
My heart with love celestial fill,

And guard me from the approach of ill.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow; Praise him, all creatures here below; Praise him above, ye heavenly host, Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

How perfect is thy word,
And all thy judgments just!
Forever sure thy promise, Lord,
And men securely trust.

I hear thy word with love,
And I would fain obey:

Send thy good Spirit from above
To guide me, lest I stray.

Warn me of every sin;
Forgive my secret faults:

And cleanse this guilty soul of mine,
Whose crimes exceed my thoughts.

While with my heart and tongue I spread thy praise abroad, Accept the worship and the song, My Saviour and my God.

THEO. F. SEWARD.

Cease, ye mourners! cease to languish
O'er the grave of those you love:
Pain and death, and night and anguish,
Enter not the world above.

While our silent steps are straying

Lonely through night's deepening shade,
Glory's brightest beams are playing
Round the happy Christian's head.

Light and peace at once deriving
From the hand of God most high,
In his glorious presence living,
They shall never, never die.

Now, ye mourners! cease to languish
O'er the grave of those you love :
Far removed from pain and anguish,
They are chanting hymns above.

To thy pastures fair and large,
Heavenly Shepherd, lead thy charge;
And my couch, with tenderest care,
'Mid the springing grass prepare.
When I faint with summer's heat,
Thou shalt guide my weary feet
To the streams, that, still and slow,
Through the verdant meadows flow.

Safe the dreary vale I tread,
By the shades of death o'erspread,
With thy rod and staff supplied,
This my guard, and that my guide.

Constant to my latest end
Thou my footsteps shalt attend,
And shalt bid thy hallowed dome
Yield me an eternal home.

Now the shades of night are gone;
Now the morning light is come.
Lord, we would be thine to-day:
Drive the shades of sin away.

Fill our souls with heavenly light;
Banish doubt, and clear our sight:
In thy service, Lord, to-day,
Help us labor, help us pray.

Keep our wayward passions bound;
Save us from our foes around;

Going out and coming in,
Keep us safe from every sin.

When our work of life is past,
Oh! receive us all at last :

Sin's dark night shall be no more
When we reach the heavenly shore.

45. How vain is all beneath the skies!
How transient every earthly bliss!
How slender all the fondest ties
That bind us to a world like this!

The evening cloud, the morning dew,
The withering grass, the fading flower,
Of earthly hopes are emblems true,
The glory of a passing hour

But though Earth's fairest blossoms die,
And all beneath the skies is vain,
There is a land whose confines lie
Beyond the reach of care and pain.

Then let the hope of joys to come
Dispel our cares, and chase our fears:
If God be ours, we're travelling home,
Though passing through a vale of tears.
Moderato.

46. How blest the righteous when he dies!
When sinks a weary soul to rest,
How mildly beam the closing eyes!
How gently heaves the expiring breast!
So fades a summer cloud away;

So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day;
So dies the wave along the shore.

A holy quiet reigns around,

A calm which life nor death destroys:
Nothing disturbs that peace profound
Which his unfettered soul enjoys.

Life's duty done, as sinks the clay,

Light from its load the spirit flies;

While heaven and earth combine to say,
"How blest the righteous when he dies!"

My spirit on thy care,

Blest Saviour, I recline:

Thou wilt not leave me to despair;

For thou art love divine.

In thee I place my trust;
On thee I calmly rest:

I know thee good, I know thee just,
And count thy choice the best.

Whate'er events betide,

Thy will they all perform:
Safe in thy breast my head I hide,
Nor fear the coming storm.

Let good or ill befall,
It must be good for me,
Secure of having thee in all,
Of having all in thee.