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3 0! let me then at length be taught What I am still so slow to learnThat God is love, and changes not, Nor knows the shadow of a turn.

4 Sweet truth, and easy to repeat! But when my faith is sharply tried, I find myself a learner yet,

Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide.

5 But, O my God! one look from thee' Subdues the disobedient will,

Drives doubt and discontent away,
And thy rebellious child is still.


C. M.


God speaking Peace to his People. Ps. 85. 1 UNITE, my roving thoughts, unite In silence soft and sweet:

And thou, my soul, sit gently down
At thy great Sovereign's feet.

2 Jehovah's awful voice is heard,
Yet gladly I attend;

For lo! the everlasting God
Proclaims himself my friend.

3 Harmonious accents to my soul
The sound of peace convey;
The tempest at his word subsides,
And winds and seas obey.

4 By all its joys, I charge my heart
To grieve his love no more;
But, charmed by melody divine,
To give its follies o'er.

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1 Look back, my soul, with grateful love
On what thy God has done;
Praise him for his unnumbered gifts,
And praise him for his Son.

2 How oft hath his indulgent hand
My flowing eyelids dried,
And rescued from impending death,
When I in danger cried!

3 When on the bed of pain I lay,
With sickness sore oppressed,
How oft hath he assuaged my grief,
And lulled my eyes to rest.

4 Back from destruction's yawning pit
At his command I came;
He fed the expiring lamp anew,
And raised its feeble flame.

5 My broken spirit he hath cheered,
When torn with inward grief;
And, when temptations pressed me sore,
Hath brought me swift relief.

6 Still will I walk before his face,
While he this life prolongs;

Till grace shall all its work complete, And teach me heavenly songs.

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L. M.


The Rest of the grateful Soul. Ps. 116.
1 RETURN, my soul, and seek thy rest
Upon thy heavenly Father's breast:
Indulge me, Lord, in that repose
The soul which loves thee only knows.

2 Safe in thy care, I fear no more

The tempest's howl, the billows' roar:
Those storms must shake the Almighty's seat,
Which violate the saint's retreat.

3 Thy bounties, Lord, to me surmount
The power of language to recount;
From morning dawn the setting sun
Sees but my work of praise begun.

4 Rich in ten thousand gifts possessed,
In future hopes more richly blest,
I'll sit and sing, till death shall raise
A note of more proportioned praise.


C. M.


Praising God in Life and Death.

1 My soul shall praise thee, O my God!
Through all my mortal days;
And to eternity prolong

Thy vast, thy boundless praise.

2 In each bright hour of peace and hope,
Be this my sweet employ:
Devotion heightens all my bliss,
And sanctifies my joy.

3 When gloomy care or keen distress Invades my throbbing breast,

My tongue shall learn to speak thy praise, And soothe my pains to rest.

4 Nor shall my tongue alone proclaim
The honors of my God;

My life, with all my active powers,
Shall spread thy praise abroad.

5 And though these lips shall cease to move,
Though death shall close these eyes,
Yet shall my soul to nobler heights
Of joy and transport rise.

6 Then shall my powers in endless strains Their grateful tribute pay:

The theme demands an angel's tongue,
And an eternal day.


C. M.


Days of the Upright known to God. Ps. 37.

1 To thee, my God, my days are known;
My soul enjoys the thought;
My actions all before thy face,
Nor are my faults forgot.

2 Each secret breath devotion vents
Is vocal to thine ear;

And all my walks of daily life
Before thine eye appear.

3 The vacant hour, the active scene,
Thy mercy shall approve;

And every pang of sympathy,
And every care of love.

4 Each golden hour of beaming light
Is gilded by thy rays;

And dark affliction's midnight gloom
A present God surveys.

5 Full in thy view through life I pass,
And in thy view I die;

And when each mortal bond is broke,
Shall find my God is nigh.


7 & 6s. M.


The Soul aspiring to Heaven.

1 RISE, my soul, and stretch thy wings,
Thy better portion trace;
Rise from transitory things,

Towards heaven, thy native place.
Sun, and moon, and stars decay;
Time shall soon this earth remove;
Rise, my soul, and haste away
To seats prepared above.

2 Rivers to the ocean run,

Nor stay in all their course;
Fire, ascending, seeks the sun;
Both speed them to their source:
So a soul that's born of God,
Pants to view his glorious face;
Upward tends to his abode,

To rest in his embrace.


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