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78. 61.
PRAISE to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days ;
Bounteous source of ev'ry joy,
Let Thy praise our tongues employ;
All to Thee, our God, we owe,

Source whence all our blessings flow.
2 All the plenty summer pours ;

Autumn's rich o'erflowing stores ;
Flocks that whiten all the plain ;
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain :
Lord, for these our souls shall raise

Grateful vows and solemn praise. 3 Peace, prosperity, and health,

Private bliss, and public wealth,
Knowledge with its gladdening streams,
Pure religion's holier beams :
Lord, for these our souls shall raise

Grateful vows and solemn praise.
4 As Thy prospering hand hath blest,

May we give Thee of our best ;
And by deeds of kindly love
For Thy mercies grateful prove;
Singing thus through all our days,
Praise to God, immortal praise.

Mrs. A. L. Barbaud, Alt. & Ab. 744

PRAISE, O praise our God and King !
Hymns of adoration sing ;
For His mercies still endure,

Ever faithful, ever sure.
2 Praise Him that He made the sun
Day by day his course to run ;
And the silver moon by night,
Shining with her gentle light.

3 Praise Him that He gave the rain

To mature the swelling grain ;
And hath bid the fruitful field

Crops of precious increase yield.
4 Praise Him for our harvest-store,

He hath filled the garner-floor ;
And for richer food than this,

Pledge of everlasting bliss.
5 Glory to our bounteous King ;

Glory let creation sing ;
Glory to the Father, Son,
And blest Spirit, Three in One.

H. W. Baker. 745

8s, 7s. 81. TO THEE, O Lord, our hearts we raise

In hymns of adoration,
To Thee bring sacrifice of praise

With shouts of exultation :
Bright robes of gold the fields adorn,

The hills with joy are ringing,
The valleys stand so thick with corn

That even they are singing.
2 And now on this our festal day,

Thy bounteous hand confessing, Upon Thine altar, Lord, we lay

The first-fruits of Thy blessing.
By Thee the souls of men are fed

With gifts of grace supernal,
Thou who dost give us earthly bread,

Give us the Bread eternal.
3 We bear the burden of the day,

And often toil seems dreary ; But labor ends with sunset ray,

And rest comes for the weary.

May we, the angel-reaping o'er,

Stand at the last accepted,
Christ's golden sheaves for evermore

To garners bright elected.
4 Oh, blessèd is that land of God,

Where saints abide for ever ; Where golden fields spread fair and broad,

Where flows the crystal river : The strains of all its holy throng

With ours to-day are blending; Thrice blessèd is that harvest-song Which never hath an ending.

W. C. Dix.


78. 81.
COME, ye thankful people, come,
Raise the song of Harvest-Home :
All is safely gathered in,
Ere the winter storms begin ;
God, our Maker, doth provide
For our wants to be supplied ;
Come to God's own temple, come,

Raise the song of Harvest-Home.
2 All the world is God's own field,

Fruit unto His praise to yield ;
Wheat and tares together sown,
Unto joy or sorrow grown:
First the blade, and then the ear,
Then the full corn shall appear :
Lord of harvest, grant that we

Wholesome grain and pure may be.
3 For the Lord our God shall come,

And shall take His harvest home;
From His field shall in that day
All offences purge away ;

Give His angels charge at last
In the fire the tares to cast,
But the fruitful ears to store
In His Garner evermore.

4 Even so, Lord, quickly come,

To Thy final Harvest-Home !
Gather Thou Thy people in,
Free from sorrow, free from sin ;
There for ever purified,
In Thy Presence to abide :
Come, with all Thine angels, come,
Raise the glorious Harvest-Home !

H. Alford


78. 81.
CHRIST, by heav'nly hosts ador'd,
Gracious, mighty, sov'reign Lord,
God of nations, King of kings,
Head of all created things,
By the Church with joy confess'd,
God o'er all forever blest ;
Pleading at Thy throne we stand,

Save Thy people, bless our land.
2 On our fields of grass and grain

Send, O Lord, the kindly rain ;
O'er our wide and goodly land
Crown the labors of each hand.
Let Thy kind protection be
O'er our commerce on the sea :
Open, Lord, Thy bounteous hand,

Bless Thy people, bless our land.
3 Let our rulers ever be

Men that love and honor Thee ;
Let the powers by Thee ordained
Be in righteousness maintained ;


In the people's hearts increase
Love of piety and peace;
Thus united we shall stand
One wide, free, and happy land.

H. Harbaugh 748 We give Thee thanks, O God, this day,

For mercies never failing ;
Thy love hath brought us on our way,

For all our wants availing.
2 No less that love hath met our need

Than when the manna falling Did day by day Thy people feed,

To love and praises calling.
3 The smitten rock poured forth of old

Its crystal waters gleaming ;
And still the same glad tale is told,

For us the floods are streaming. 4 The seasons come, the seasons go,

But each shall find us singing :
For each shall greet us, well we know,

New favors from Thee bringing.
5 Thro’ endless years Thou art the same,

Thy mercy changes never ;
Then blessed be Thy mighty name
Forever and forever.

R. M. Offord.


L. M. O God, beneath Thy guiding hand,

Qur exiled fathers crossed the sea ; And when they trod the wintry strand, With pray'r and psalm they worship’d


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