Words by Rev. Dr. White, Rector of Slymbridge.
Great God who spake, and worlds were made, E'er time its course began :
Who breathed upon the dust, and lo!
Uprose the living man.
In Thee we trust, in pray'r to Thee,
We lift the heart and bend the knee;
Father of all, preserve us still,
Through change of time, and chance of ill.
Son of the Father, Saviour, Lord,
Blest source of sin forgiv'n,
Whose love to fall'n man, restored
The heritage of heav'n.
O help us in our hour of need,
In mercy for Thy people plead;
That when we die, O Jesu, we
May enter into rest with Thee.
Spirit Divine, Pure Fount of Grace,
Our Comforter and Guide,
In us, as in Thy dwelling-place,
'Mid life's dark paths abide.
Strengthen the weak, and those that stray,
Recall to wisdom's heavenly way;
That, led by Thee, we best may win
Our hearts from guile, our thoughts from sin.
Almighty One, Eternal Trine,
That mindful art of man;
Creator, Saviour, Guide Divine,
Who may Thy mysť'ry scan.
In Thee we trust, to Thee we raise
The willing voice of grateful praise :
Ye earthly choirs, ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
When power divine, in mortal form,
Hush'd with a word the raging storm;
In soothing accents, Jesus said,
Lo, "It is I, be not afraid."
Lo! when in silence nature sleeps,
And her lone watch the mourner keeps;
One thought shall ev'ry care remove;
Trust, feeble man, thy Maker's love.
Blest be the voice that breathes from heav'n
To ev'ry heart in sunder riven,
When earthly peace and joy are fled,
Lo, "It is I, be not afraid."
Music from a German Melody.
Shepherd of thy little flock,
Lead me to the shadowing rock,
Where the richest pasture grows,
Where the living water flows.
By that pure and silent stream,
Shelter'd from the scorching beam,
Shepherd, Saviour, Guardian, Guide,
Keep me ever near Thy side.
The spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim.
Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
Doth his Creator's power display;
And publishes to ev'ry land
The work of an Almighty hand.
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly, to the list'ning earth,
Repeats the story of her birth:
While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets, in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.
What though in solemn silence all
Move round this dark terrestrial ball;
What though no real voice, nor sound,
Amid their radiant orbs be found;
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth their glorious voice:
For ever singing, as they shine,
"The hand that made us is divine."
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