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While, roused by difcord's fell alarms, The headlong nations rufh to arms; Here God afferts his milder fway, The vengeful fword finds here no prey. 6 Such, Britain, is thy favour'd land, Such mercies do our praise demand: O God, how much we owe to thee! How bafe a thanklefs heart must be!

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CCCLXXVII. Proper Metre. STEELE.

National Thanksgiving for Peace.

Reat God, infpire each heart and tongue Thy wonderous goodness to proclaim; And bid the animating song

Glow with devotion's lively flame.,
To thee let favoured Britain raise
Her sweetest notes of thankful praise.

But where shall we begin to trace
The wonders of thy hand divine?

In every feason, every place,

How numerous, and how bright they fhine.
To God ye favoured Britons raise
Your sweetest notes of thankful praife.

Abroad, protection and fuccefs

Proclaimed that Britain's God was there;
At home, he bade fair plenty blefs,
The fruitful fields confeffed his care.
To God ye favoured Britons raise
Your sweetest notes of thankful praife.

But yet beneath the hoftile fword
Has many a worthy patriot bled,

And

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And many a mourning heart deplored
A friend, a fon, a brother dead.

The fword is fheathed-Ye Britons raise
To God your sweetest notes of praife.

The horrors of the fanguine field,
Which faddened victory's faireft plume,
To mild domeftic fcenes fhall yield,
And peace her gentle reign refume.
To God ye favoured Britons raise
Your sweetest notes of thankful praise.

Bleft peace, from her propitious fmiles.
What numerous, various bleffings flow!
Great God, to thee our happy ifles
These bleffings fingularly owe.

To thee let favoured Britain raise
Her sweetest notes of thankful praise.

Crown, gracious God, thy gift of peace
With gifts more noble, more divine!
May virtue, piety increase,

And thus each British heart be thine!
Devotion then to thee fhall raise
Sublimer notes of thankful praise.

CCCLXXVIII. Long Metre. STEELE.

National Supplication in War.

LLBDK how thy wiitched finners dare

Look up to thy divine abode?

Or offer their unhallowed prayer
Before a juft, a holy God?

Majefty guards thy awful feat,
And pureft glories veil thy face:
Yet mercy calls us to thy feet,
Thy throne is still a throne of grace.

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With all the boasted pomp of war
In vain we dare the hoftile field;
In vain, unless the Lord be there;
Thy arm alone is Britain's fhield.

Let paft experience of thy care
Support our hope, our truft invite;
Again accept our humble prayer,
Again be mercy thy delight.

Our arms fucceed, our councils guide, Thy providence our cause maintain; Till war's deftructive rage fubfide, And peace refume her gentle reign. 6 O when shall time the period bring When raging war fhall wafte no more; When peace shall ftretch her balmy wing From Albion's coaft to India's fhore?

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When fhall the gofpel's healing ray, Kind fource of amity divine,

Spread o'er the world celeflial day? When shall the nations, Lord, be thine?

CCCLXXIX.

Common Metre. WATTS.

The Fifth of November.

OD, who o'er all creation rules
With an unerring mind,

GOD

The deadly ruin turned aside,
Which Britain's foes defigned.

2 Their impious views infulted God;
And with an awful frown

He flung confufion on their plots,
And fhook their Babel down.

3 Their

3 Their fecret fires in darknefs lay,
Britain the facrifice;

But darkness meditates in vain
To 'scape his fearching eyes.
4 The fons of flavery, and of Rome,
In vain new mischiefs try;
Averted by a righteous God,

Their mifchiefs with them die.

5 Almighty grace defends our land
From their malignant power:
Let Britain, with united fongs,
Almighty grace adore.

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CCCLXXX. Long Metre. STEELE.

W

The fame.

HILE Britain, favoured of the skies,
Recalls the wonders God hath wrought;

The nation's gratitude fhould rife,

And warm to rapture every thought.

2 When Hell and Rome combined their power,
And doomed these ifles their certain prey;
Thy will forbade the fatal hour,
Their impious plots in ruin lay.

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Again our unrelenting foes
Refumed the fame abhorred defign;
Again to fave us God arofe,

And Britain owned the hand divine.

Why, gracious God, is Britain faved?
Why bleft with liberty and light?

Nor by fell tyranny enslaved,
Nor funk in fuperstition's night?

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Not for ourselves alone, we own;
Ungrateful, much ungrateful race!
But thee the Father to make known,
In all the bleffings of thy grace.
6 O ftill a Father's care extend;
Reform this wretched guilty land.
Thee may we feek our wifeft friend,
And virtuous love our hearts expand.

CCCLXXXI.

TH

Common Metre. WATTS,

The LORD's Day.

HIS is the day the Lord has made,
He calls the hours his own:
Let heaven rejoice, let earth be glad,
And praise surround the throne.

2 To day he rose, and left the dead,
And Satan's empire fell :

To day the faints his triumph fpread,
And all his wonders tell.

3 Hofannah to th' anointed King,
To David's holy Son!

Next to our God thy love we fing,
Thy love our hearts has won.

4 Yes! bleft be he who comes to men

With meffages of

grace;

Who comes in God his Father's name

To fave our finful race.

5 Hofanna in the highest strains

The church on earth can raife!

The highest heavens, in which he reigns,
Shall yield him nobler praise.

Common

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