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O enter then his gates with praise,

Approach with joy his courts unto: Praise, laud, and bless his name always,

For it is seemly so to do.
For why? the Lord our God is good,

His mercy is for ever sure;
His truth at all times firmly stood,

And shall from age to age endure.




Oh! for a closer walk with God,

A calm and heavenly frame; A light, to shine upon the road

That leads me to the Lamb !

Where is the blessedness I knew

When first I saw the Lord ? Where is the soul-refreshing view Of Jesus, and his word ?


What peaceful hours I once enjoyed !

How sweet their mem'ry still ! But they have left an aching void

The world can never fill.

Return, O holy Dove, return,

Sweet messenger of rest ; I hate the sins that made thee mourn,

And drove thee from my breast.

The dearest idol I have known,

Whate'er that idol be,
Help me to tear it from thy throne,

And worship only thee.

So shall my walk be close with God,

Calm and serene my frame:
So purer light shall mark the road,

That leads me to the Lamb.



HAPPINESS, thou lovely name,

Where's thy seat, О tell me, where ? Learning, pleasure, wealth, and fame,

All cry out,— It is not here :'
Not the wisdom of the wise
Can inform me where it lies;
Not the grandeur of the great
Can the bliss I seek create.

Object of my first desire,

Jesus, crucified for me!
All to happiness aspire,

Only to be found in thee :
Thee to praise, and thee to know,
Constitute our bliss below;
Thee to see, and thee to love,
Constitute our bliss above.

Lord, it is not life to live,

If thy presence thou deny ; Lord, if thou thy presence give,

'Tis no longer death to die : Source and giver of repose, Singly from thy smile it flows; Peace and happiness are thine, Mine they are, if thou art mine.


FROM THE OLD SPANISH. Earth and Heaven bewailing, The light at mid-day failing, The sea that sparkled cheerily Rolling dark waves drearily ; It was an hour of dread When the Saviour said Eli! Eli! from the tree, Lord, I yield my soul to thee!

It was an hour of grieving
To angel and to man;
A quick convulsive heaving
Through nature's bosom ran:
Jehovah the great maker!
Of human pangs partaker!
The God that gave us breath,
For us to die the death !
It is a thought for gazing eyes,
But not for words, nor tears, nor sighs,

Jesus' dying agonies !


Mary, Mother, humbly kneeling,
I a smile of radiance stealing,
A holy smile! I see it break
A moonbeam o'er thy pallid cheek,
Oh! who may utter, who may think
What joy is mingled with my fears,
While Golgotha's dry dust doth drink

Jesus' blood and Mary's tears !

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