MELODY.

With all

51

WITH all my powers of heart and tongue,
I'll praise my Maker in my song;
Angels shall hear the notes I raise,
Approve the song, and join the praise.

To God I cried, when troubles rose;
He heard me, and subdued my foes;
He did my rising fears control,
And strength diffused through all my soul.

Amid a thousand snares I stand,
Upheld and guarded by thy hand;
Thy words my fainting soul revive,
And keep my dying faith alive.

I'll sing thy truth and
Lord;
mercy,
I'll sing the wonders of thy word;
Not all the works and names below,
So much thy power and glory show.

52

THUS far the Lord has led me on; Thus far his power prolongs my days; And every evening shall make known Some fresh memorial of his grace.

Much of my time has run to waste,
And I perhaps am near my home;
But he forgives my follies past;
He gives me strength for days to come.

my song;

I lay my body down to sleep;
Peace is the pillow for my head;
While well-appointed angels keep
Their watchful stations round my bed.

Thus, when the night of death shall come, My flesh shall rest beneath the ground, And wait thy voice to rouse my tomb, With sweet salvation in the sound.

53

NATURE, with all her powers, shall sing
Her great Creator and her King;
Nor air, nor earth, nor skies, nor seas,
Deny the tribute of their praise.

Ye seraphs, who sit near his throne,
Begin to make his glories known;
Tune high your harps, and spread the sound
Throughout creation's utmost bound.

O, may our ardent zeal employ

Our loftiest thoughts and loudest songs; Let there be sung, with warmest joy, Hosanna from ten thousand tongues.

Yet, mighty God, our feeble frame Attempts in vain to reach thy name; The highest notes that angels raise Fall far below thy glorious praise.

ORGAN.

1

MELODY.

DR. GREENE.

ther and the Son.

61

WE bless the Lord, the just and good, Who fills our hearts with joy and food; Who pours his blessings from the skies, And loads our days with rich supplies.

He sends the sun his circuit round,
To cheer the fruits, to warm the ground;
He bids the clouds, with plenteous rain,
Refresh the thirsty earth again.

'Tis to his care we owe our breath,
And all our near escapes from death:
Safety and health to God belong;
He helps the weak, and guards the strong.

He makes the saint and sinner prove The common blessings of his love: But the wide difference that remains, Is endless joys and endless pains.

The Lord, that bruised the serpent's head,
On all the serpent's seed shall tread;
The stubborn sinner's hope confound,
And smite him with a lasting wound.

His own right hand his saints will raise, From the deep earth, or deeper seas, And bring them to his courts above, There to enjoy his perfect love.