Both. 5 Lord, bid this work of love Be crown'd with meet success; This institution bless : HYMN 111. (IIL 12 1 GLORY to the Father give, God in whom we move and live; Children's songs delight his ear. 2 Glory to the Son we bring, Christ our Prophet, Priest, and King; To the Lamb, for he was sļain. 3 Glory to the Holy Ghost, He reclaims the sinner lost; Touch their tongues with holy fire, 4 Glory in the highest be To the blessed Trinity, I WHEN Jesus left his heav'nly throne He chose an humble birth; He came to dwell on earth; In wisdom's paths of peace; As years and strength increase, When mothers round him press'd ; Their infants in his arms he took, And on his bosom bless'd : 4 Safe from the world's alluring harms, Beneath his watchful eye, 0, thus encircled in his arms, May we for ever lie! HYMN 113. (L M.) I LORD, how delightful 'tis to see A whole assembly worship thee: They hear of heav'n, and learn the way. 2 I have been there, and still would go, 'Tis like a little heav'n below; Not all that earth and sin can say Shall tempt me to forget this day, 8 O write upon my mem'ry, Lord, The text and doctrine of thy word ; But love thee better than before. Fill up this sinful heart of mine; (C. M.) I MERCY, descending from above, In softest accents pleads; When merzy intercedes ! And God will well approve, And their Creator love. And turn the rising race To seek their Saviour's face. To aid this blest design; (C. M.) 1 BLEST is the man whose soft'ning heart Feels all another's pain; Is never rais'd in vain: 2 Whose breast responds with gen'rous warmth, A stranger's wo to feel ; He wants the pow'r to heal. 3 To gentle offices of love His feet are never slow; A brother in a foe. And mercy, from above, Descend on those who thus fulfil The Christian law of love. (C. M.) HYMN 116. 1 RICH are the joys which cannot die, With God laid up in store; Treasures beyond the changing sky, Brighter than golden ore. 2 The seeds which piety and love Have scatter'd here below, In the fair fertile fields above To ample harvests grow. At Jesus' feet I lay; Abounding grace repay. (IIL 3.) HYMN 117. Thou in glory unconfin'd, With the poor of humble mind. 2 As thy love, through all creation, Beams like thy diffusive light; So the high and humble station Both are equal in thy sight, 3 Thus thy care, for all providing, Warm'd thy faithful prophet's tongue; Who, the lot of all deciding, To thy chosen Israel sung: Thou the golden sheaf shalt bind; Chorus. The widow and the fatherless. 6 When thine olive plants increasing Pour their plenty o'er thy plain, 12 Grateful, thou shait take the blessing, Chorus. These, &c. 6 When thy favour'd vintage flowing, Gladdens thine autumnal scene, Own the bounteous hand bestowing, But thy vines the poor shall glean. Chorus. These, &c. 7 Still we read thy word declaring Mercy, Lord, thine own decree; Mercy, ev'ry sorrow sharing, Warms the heart resembling thee. 8 Still the orphan and the stranger, Still the widow owns thy care; Hallelujah, Amen. HYMN 118. Bids all the rolling waves rejoice; Can sink them silent on the sand. Sportful, to thee a tribute pays; At thy command, or rage or sleep. 3 Thus is thy glorious pow'r ador'd Among the watry nations, Lord! (L. M.) HYMN 119. (IV. 5.) “ Save, Lord! or we perish.” St. Matt. viii. 25. 1 WHEN through the torn sail the wild tempest is streaming, [ing, When o'er the dark wave the red lightning is gleamNor hope lends a ray the poor seaman to cherish, We fly to our Maker: “ Save, Lord! or we perish." 2 0 Jesus, once rock'd on the breast of the billow, Arous’d, by the shriek of despair, from thy pillow, 3 And O! when the whirlwind of passion is raging, When sin in our hearts its wild warfare is waging, Then send down thy Spirit thy ransom'd to cherish, Rebuke the uestroyer; “ Save, Lord ! or we perish.” HYMN 120, (C. M.) Which may be used at Sea or on Land. 1 LORD! for the just thou dost provide, Thou art their sure defence! Eternal wisdom is their guide, Their help, Omnipotence, 2 Though they through foreign lands should roam, And breathe the tainted air Yet thou, their God, art there. Makes ev'ry country please : And smooth’st the rugged seas! Defy'd the pilot's art; And sorrow in each heart; To snatch me from the grave! Nor short thine arm to saye! The storms obey'd thy will, And ev'ry wave was still ! A life of praise shall be ; FOR THE SICK. (L. M.) 1 WHEN dangers, woes, or death are nigh, Past mercies teach me where to fly: When sickness grieves, and pains invade. 2 To all the various helps of art Kindly thy healing pow'r impart; |