He spake, and heav'n's high arches rung,
With fhouts of loud applaufe;
"He dy'd" the friendly angels fung,
Nor ceafe their rapturous joys.

32. 8. New Haven T. DAVIS.

GR

The Pardoning God.

REAT God of wonders! all thy ways Are matchlefs, Godlike, and divine; But the fair glories of thy grace

More Godlike and unrival'd thine: Who is a pard'ning God like thee? Or who has grace fo rich and free? Crimes of fuch horror to forgive,

Such guilty daring worms to fpare, This is thy grand prerogative,

And none fhall in the honor fhare. Who is a pard ning God like thee? Or who has grace fo rich and free? Angels and men refign your claim To pity, mercy, love and grace; Thefe glories crown Jehovah's name With an incomparable blaze. Who is a pard'ning God like thee? Or who has grace fo rich and free? In wonder loft, with trembling joy, We take the pardon of our God, Pardon, for crimes of deepest dye,

A pardon feal'd with Jefus' blood. Who is a pard'ning God like thee? Or who has grace fo rich and free?

O may this strange this matchless grace,
This Godlike miracle of love,
Fill the wide earth with grateful praise,
And all the angelic choirs above!
Who is a pard'ning God like thee?
Or who has grace so rich and free ?

ORD, when our raptur'd thought furveys
Creation's beauties o'er,

All nature joins to teach thy praise,

And bid our fouls adore.

Where'er we turn our gazing eyes,
Thy radiant footsteps fhine;
Ten thoufand pleafing wonders rife,
And speak their source divine.

The living tribes, of countless forms,
In earth, and fea, and air;

The meanest flies, the smallest worms
Almighty pow'r declare.

Thy wisdom, pow'r, and goodness, Lord,

In all thy works appear:

And, O'let man thy praise record;

Man, thy diftinguish'd care!

From thee the breath of life he drew ;

That breath thy pow'r maintains;

Thy tender mercy, ever new,

His brittle frame fuftains.

Yet nobler favors claim his praife,
Of reafon's light poffefs'd;
By revelation's brightest rays,
Still more divinely blefs'd.

Thy providence, his conftant guard,
When threat'ning woes impend;
Or will th' impending dangers ward,
Or timely fuccors lend."

On us that providence has shone
With gentle smiling rays;

O, may our lips, and lives make known
Thy goodness and thy praise !

34. S. M.

God my Creator and Benefactor.

MY Maker, and my King,

Μ

To thee my all I owe;

Thy fov reign bounty is the fpring
From whence my bleffings flow.
Thou ever good, and kind,
A thousand reasons move,
A thousand obligations bind
My heart to grateful love.
The creature of thy hand,
On thee alone I live;
My God, thy benefits demand
More praife than life can give.

Oh! what can I impart,

When all is thine before?

Thy love demands a thankful heart,

The gift, alas, how poor!

When in the flipp'ry paths of youth,
With heedlefs fteps I ran,
Thine arm, unfeen convey'd me safe,
And led me up to man.

Ten thoufand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ;
Nor is the leaft a chearful heart,
That tastes thoie gifts with joy.
When nature fails, and day and night
Divide thy works no more,
My ever grateful heart, O Lord,
Thy mercy fhall adore.
Through all eternity to thee
A joyful fong I'll raife;
But oh! eternity's too short
To utter all thy praise.

38. L. M. STEELE.

The Myfteries of Providence.

ORD, how myfterious are thy ways!
How blind are we! how mean our praife!

Thy fteps can mortal eyes explore?

'Tis ours, to wonder and adore!

Thy deep decrees, from creature fight,
Are hid in fhades of awful night;
Amid the lines, with curious eye,
Not angel minds prefume to pry.
Great God, I would not afk to fee
What in futurity thall be ;
If light and blifs attend my days,
Then let my future hours be praise.

Is darkness and distress my share?
Then let me truft thy guardian care;
Enough for me, if love divine,

At length through ev'ry cloud fhall fhine.
Yet this my foul defires to know,
Be this my only with below;

"That Chrift is mine!"-This great requeft Grant, bounteous God,-and I am bleft!

OD moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform ;

GOD

He plants his footsteps in the fea,
And rides upon the ftorm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,

He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his fov'reign will.

Ye fearful faints, fresh courage take,
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and fhall break
In bleffings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But truft him for his grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding ev'ry hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,

But fweet will be the flow'r.