Though cloudy skies, and northern blasts
Though troubles assail, and dangers affright
Thrice happy man, who fears the Lord
Through every age, eternal God
Thus did the sons of Abr'ham pass
Thus far the Lord has led me on
Thus saith the high and lofty One
Thus saith the mercy of the Lord
Thus the eternal Father spake
Thy favours, Lord, surprise our souls
Thy gracious promise, Lord, we plead
Thy life I read, my dearest Lord
Thy mercy, my God, is the theme of my song
"Tis by the faith of joys to come
"Tis finish'd! lo, the Saviour cry'd
"Tis finish'd, the Redeemer said
To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost
To God our praises first belong
To God the Father, God the Son
To God the Father, King supreme
To God, the only wise
To heav'n, I lift my waiting eyes
To our Almighty Maker God
To our Redeemer's glorious name
Try us, O God, and search the ground
"Twas on that dark, that doleful night
"Twas the commission of our Lord
Uprising from the darksome tomb
Up to the fields, where angels lie
Up to the hills, I lift mine eyes
Up to the Lord, that reigns on high
Vain are the hopes the sons of men
Vital spark of heav'nly flame
We are a garden, wall'd around
We bless the Lord, the just, the good
We give immortal praise
We sing his love who once was slain
Weary of wandering from my God
Welcome, sweet day of rest
Well, the Redeemer's gone
What different powers of grace and sin
What equal honours shall we bring
What favour, Lord, that we should meet
What happy men or angels these
What heavenly man, or lovely God
What shall I render to my God
What shall we render unto thee
What though my frail eye-lids refuse
What various hind'rances we meet
When all thy mercies, O my God
When any turn from Zion's way
When languor and disease invade
When, O dear Saviour, when shall I
When the first parents of our race
When we are rais'd from deep distress
When we view the saints declining
When winds and waves unite to foil
When, with my mind devoutly prest
Who can describe the joys that rise
Who hath our report believed
Who is this tender hearted Friend
Who shall the Lord's elect condemn
Where two or three with sweet accord
Where'er the Lord shall build my house
While beauty clothes the fertile vale
While carnal men, with all their might
While each revolving day demands
While justice waves her vengeful hand
Why do we mourn departing friends
Why does your face, ye humble souls
Why is my heart so far from thee
Why should the children of a King
Will God in very deed descend
Winter has a joy for me
With all my powers of heart and tongue
With joy we meditate the grace
With one consent let all the earth
With songs and honours sounding loud
Ye angels, round the throne
Ye dying sons of men
1. The Pleasure of Public Worship. (L. M.)
OW pleasant, how divinely fair, O 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 joys and thee? 3 Blest are the saints who sit on high, Around thy throne of majesty; Thy brightest glories shine above, And all their work is praise and love. 4 Blest are the souls that find a place Within the temple of thy grace; There they behold thy gentler rays, And seek thy face, and learn thy praise.
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