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3. Thou who hast laid within the grave

Those whom thou hadst no power to save,
Believe their spirits now are near,

For angels wait while God is here. 4. Thou who hast dear ones far away,

In foreign lands, ʼmid ocean's spray,
Pray for them now, and dry the tear,

And trust the God who listens here. 5. Thou who art mourning o'er thy sin,

Deploring guilt that reigns within,
The God of peace is ever near;
The troubled spirit meets Him here.

11.

L. M.
1. WITHIN Thy courts have millions met,

Millions this day before Thee bowed ;
Their faces heavenward were set,

Their vows to Thee, O God! they vowed. 2. Still as the light of morning broke

O’er island, continent, and deep,
Thy far-spread family awoke,

Sabbath all round the world to keep. 3. From east to west the sun surveyed,

From north to south, adoring throngs; And still where evening stretched her shade,

The stars came forth to hear their songs. 4. And not a prayer, a tear, a sigh,

Hath failed this day some suit to gain ; To hearts that sought Thee Thou wast nigh,

Nor hath one sought Thy face in vain. 5. The poor in spirit Thou hast fed,

The feeble soul hath strengthened been,
The mourner Thou hast comforted,
The pure in heart their God have seen.

MONTGOMERY.

12.

L. M.
1. Blest hour when mortal man retires

To hold communion with his God,
To send to heaven his warm desires,

And listen to the sacred word.
2. Blest hour when earthly cares resign

Their empire o'er his anxious breast,
While all around the calm divine

Proclaims the holy day of rest.
3. Blest hour when God Himself draws nigh,

Well pleased His people's voice to hear,
To hush the penitential sigh,

And wipe away the mourner's tear.
4. Blest hour, for where the Lord resorts-

Foretastes of future bliss are given,
And mortals find His earthly courts
The house of God, the gate of Heaven.

RAFFLES.

L. M.
1. How sweet to leave the world awhile,

And seek the presence of our Lord !
Dear Saviour! on Thy people smile,

And come, according to Thy word. 2. From busy scenes we now retreat,

That we may here converse with Thee:
Ah! Lord! behold us at Thy feet;-

Let this the “ gate of heaven” be.
3. “Chief of ten thousand !” now appear,

That we by faith may see Thy face:
Oh! speak, that we Thy voice may hear,

And let Thy presence fill this place.

KELLY.

14.

L. M.
1. WIEN, as returns this solemn day,

Man comes to meet his Maker, God,
What rites, what honor shall we pay ?

How spread His sovereign name abroad?

2. From marble domes and gilded spires

Shall curling clouds of incense rise,
And gems, and gold, and garlands deck

The costly pomp of sacrifice ?
3. Vain, sinful man! creation's Lord

Thy golden offerings well may spare,
But give thy heart and thou shalt find

Here dwells a God who heareth prayer. 4. O grant us, in this solemn hour,

From earth and sin's allurements free,
To feel Thy love, to own Thy power,

And raise each raptured thought to Thee !

MRS. BARBAULD.

15.

L. M.

1. ANOTHER day has passed along,

And we are nearer to the tomb,
Nearer to join the heavenly song,

Or hear the last eternal doom. 2. Sweet is the light of Sabbath eve,

And soft the sunbeams lingering there;
For these blest hours, the world I leave,

Wafted on wings of faith and prayer. 3. The time how lovely and how still;

Peace shines and smiles on all below
The plain, the stream, the wood, the hill-

All fair with evening's setting glow. 4. Season of rest! the tranquil soul

Feels the sweet calm, and melts to love
And while these sacred moments roll,

Faith sees the smiling heaven above. 5. Nor will our days of toil be long,

Our pilgrimage will soon be trod;
And we shall join the ceaseless song-

The endless Sabbath of our God.

EDMESTON,

16.

L. M.
1. SWEET Sabbath bells! I love your voice-

You call me to the house of prayer;
Oft have you made my heart rejoice,

When I have gone to worship there. 2. But now, a prisoner of the Lord,

His hand forbids, I can not go;
Yet may I here His love record,

And here the sweets of worship know. 3. Each place alike is holy ground,

Where prayer from humble souls is poured, Where praise awakes its silver sound,

Or God is silently adored. 4. His sanctuary is the heart

There, with the contrite, will He rest;
Lord, come, a Sabbath frame impart,
And make Thy temple in my breast.

SONGS IN THE NIGHT.

L. M.
1. Forth from the dark and stormy sky,

Lord, to Thine altar's shade we fly;
Forth from the world, its hope and fear,
Saviour, we seek Thy shelter here:
Weary and weak, Thy grace we pray;
Turn not, O Lord! Thy guests away.
Long have we roamed in want and pain,
Long have we sought Thy rest in vain ;
Wildered in doubt, in darkness lost,
Long have our souls been tempest-tossed;
Low at Thy feet our sins we lay;
Turn not, O Lord! Thy guests away.

WEBER.

18.

L. M.
1. LORD! may Thy truth, upon the heart

Now fall, and dwell as heavenly dew,
And flowers of grace in freshness start

Where once the weeds of error grew.

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2. May prayer now lift her sacred wings,

Contented with that aim alone
Which bears her to the King of kings,

And rests her at His sheltering throne.

N. Y. COLL.

19.

L. M.

1. WHILE now upon this Sabbath eve,

Thy house, Almighty God, we leave,
'Tis sweet, as sinks the setting sun,

To think on all our duties done.
2. Oh! evermore may all our bliss

Be peaceful, pure, divine, like this;
And may each Sabbath, as it flies,
Fit us for joys beyond the skies.

CHAPIN'S COLL. 20.

L. M.
1. Dear is the hallowed morn to me,

When Sabbath bells awake the day,
And, by their sacred minstrelsy,

Call me from earthly cares away.
2. And dear to me the wingéd hour

Spent in Thy hallowed courts, O Lord ! *
To feel devotion's soothing power,

And catch the manna of Thy word. 3. And dear to me the loud Amen

Which echoes through the blest abode,
Which swells and sinks, and swells again,

Dies on the walls, but lives to God. 4. Oft when the world, with iron hands,

Has bound me in its six days' chain,
This bursts them, like the strong man's bands,

And lets my spirit loose again. "
5. Go, man of pleasure, strike thy lyre,

Of broken Sabbaths sing the charms;
Ours be the prophet's car of fire

That bears us to a Father's arms.

CUNNINGHAM.

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