HYMN XXXII.

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All Saints. S. M.

To God the only wise,

Our Saviour, and our King,

Let all the saints below the skies

Their humble praises bring.

'Tis his Almighty Love,

His Counsel and his Care,
Preserves us safe from sin and death,
And ev'ry hurtful snare.

3 He will present his saints
Unblemish'd and complete,
Before the glory of his face,
With joys divinely great.

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Then all the chosen seed

Shall meet around the Throne;
Shall bless the conduct of his grace,
And make his wonders known.

To our redeeming God

Wisdom and pow'r belongs;
Immortal crowns of Majesty,
And everlasting songs.

HYMN XXXIII. All Saints. C. M.

1 There is a Land of pure delight

Where Saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.

2 There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers; Death, like a narrow sea divides

This heavenly land from ours.

3 Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood
Stand drest in living green;
So to the Jews old Canaan stood
While Jordan roll'd between.

4 But tim'rous mortals start and shrink
To cross this narrow sea;
And linger, shiv'ring, on the brink,
And fear to launch away...

5 O could we make our doubts remove,
Those gloomy doubts that rise,
And view the Canaan that we love
With unbeclouded eyes.

6 Could we but climb where Moses stood, And view the Landscape o'er,

Not Jordan's stream,nor Death's cold flood
Could fright us from the shore.

HYMN XXXIV:

Harvest.

1 Praise to God, immortal praise,
For the Love that crowns our days;
Bounteous Source of ev'ry joy,
Let thy Praise our tongues employ.

2 For the blessings of the Field,
Fort he stores the Gardens yield,
For the joy which Harvests bring,—
Grateful praises now we sing.

3 Flocks that whiten all the plain;
Yellow sheaves of ripen'd grain ;
Clouds that drop refreshing dews;
Suns that temp'rate warmth diffuse ;

4 All that Spring with bounteous hand,
Scatters o'er the smiling land ;
All that lib'ral Autumn pours
From her rich o'erflowing stores;

5 These to Thee, our God, we owe,
Source from whence all Blessings flow!
And for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.

HYMN XXXV. Autumn.

1 See the leaves around us falling
Dry and wither'd to the ground;
Thus to thoughtless mortals calling
In a sad and solemn sound;

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2 "Sons of Adam! (once in Eden Whence, like us, he blighted fell) "Hear the lecture we are reading'Tis, alas! the Truth we tell.

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3 "Youths! though yet no losses grieve you, Gay in health, and many a grace, "Let not cloudless skies deceive you; "Summer gives to Autumn place..

4" Yearly in our course returning, Messengers of shortest stay,

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"Thus we preach this truth concerning, eav'n and earth shall pass away!"

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5 "On the tree of life eternal

"Man, let all thy hopes be staid

Which alone, for ever vernal,
"Bears a-leaf that cannot fade.

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6 "Thus, tho' wint'ry death appals thee, "Joyful thou from earth shalt rise; "'Tis a heav'nly voice recalls thee "To thy long-lost Paradise.

HYMN XXXVI.

Sunday. Public Worship. L. M. 1 Lord of the Sabbath, hear our vows, On this thy day, in this thy house; Accept, as grateful sacrifice,

The songs which from thy servants rise.

2 Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love; But there's a nobler Rest above; O that we may that Rest attain

From sin, from sorrow, and from pain.

3 No more fatigue, no more distress,
Nor sin, nor death shall reach that place;
No groans shall mingle with the songs
Resounding from immortal tongues.

4 No rude alarms of raging foes;
No cares to break the long repose;
No midnight shade, no clouded sun,
But sacred, high, eternal noon.

5 O long-expected day, begin!

Dawn on these realms of woe and sin!
Fain would we leave this weary road,
And sleep in death, to wake with God.

HYMN XXXVII. Public Worship.

1 Lo, God is here! let us adore,

And own how awful is this place! Let all within us feel his pow'r, And silent bow before his face! Who know his pow'r, his grace who prove, Serve him with awe, with rev'rence love.

2 Lo, God is here! Him day and night
Th' united choirs of angels sing;
To him enthron'd above all height,
Heav'n's host their noblest praises bring.
Disdain not, Lord, our meaner song,
Who praise thee with a feeble tongue.