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And help to make us wise and good,
More humble, diligent, and meek.

The Orphan's Hymn.
1 WHERE shall the child of sorrow find

A place for calm repose ?
Thou Father of the fatherless,

Pity the orphan's woes!
2 What friend have I in heaven or earth,

What friend to trust but thee?
My father's dead, my mother's dead;

My God, remember me !
3 Thy gracious promise now fulfil,

And bid my trouble cease ;
In thee the fatherless shall find

Pure mercy, grace, and peace,
4 I've not a secret care or pain

But he that secret knows;
Thou, Father of the fatherless,

Pity the orphan's woes.
84. L. M.

WATTS. Health, Sickness, and Recovery. — Ps. 30. 1 Firm was my health, my day was bright,

And I presumed 't would ne'er be night;
Fondly I said within my heart,

• Pleasure and peace shall ne'er depart.'. 2 But I forgot thine arm was strong,

Which made my mountain stand so long;
Soon as thy face began to hide,

My health was gone, my comforts died. . 3 Hear me, O God of grace,' I said,

And bring me from among the dead ;'
Thy word rebuked the pains 1 felt,

Thy pardoning love removed my guilt. 4 My groans, and tears, and forms of wo,

Are turned to joy and praises now;
I throw my sackcloth on the ground,

And ease and gladness gird me round. 5 My tongue, the glory of my frame,

Shall ne'er be silent of thy name;

Thy praise shall sound through earth and heaven, For sickness healed and sins forgiven.

85. C. M. WATTS.
A Psalm of Deliverance in Distress. — Ps 40.
1 I WAITED patient for the Lord;

He bowed to hear my cry;
He saw me resting on his word,

And brought salvation nigh.
2 Firm on a rock he made me stand,

And taught my cheerful tongue
To praise the wonders of his hand,

In a new thankful song.
5 How many are thy thoughts of love !

Thy mercies, Lord, how great!
We have not words, nor hours enough,

Their numbers to repeat.
4 When I'm afflicted, poor and low,

And light and peace depart,
My God beholds my heavy wo,

And bears me on his heart.

L. M.

For a New Year.
1 God of my life, thy constant care

With blessings crowns each opening year;
TI guilty life dost thou prolong,

And wake anew mine annual song. 2 How many precious souls are fled

To the vast regions of the dead,
Since from this day the changing sun

Through his last yearly period run! 3 We yet survive; but who can say,

Or through the year, or month, or day, "I will retain this vital breath;

Thus far at least in league with death?' 4 That breath is thine, Eternal God;

'Tis thine to fix my soul's abode; It holds its life from thee alone,

On earth, or in the world unknown. 5 To thee our spirits we resign;

Make them and own them still as thine;

So shall they smile, secure from fear,'

Though death should blast the rising year. 6 Thy children, ready to be gone,

Bid time's impetuous tide roll on, And land them on that blooming shore, Where years and death are known no more. 87. L. M. H. M, WILLIAMS.

"Thou hast made Summer and Winter? | My God, all nature owns thy sway ;)

Thou givest the night, and thou the day ;
When all thy loved creation wakes,
When morning, rich in lustre, breaks,
And bathes in dew the opening flower,
To thee we owe her fragrant hour ;
And when she pours her choral song,

Her melodies to thee belong.
2 Or when, in purer tints arrayed,

The evening slowly spreads her shade,
That soothing shade, that grateful gloom,
Can, more than day's enlivening bloom,
Still every fond and vain desire,
And calmer, purer thoughts inspire,
From earth the pensive spirit free,

And lead the softened heart to thee. 3 As o'er thy works the seasons roll,

And soothe, with change of bliss, the soul,
O never may their smiling train
Pass o'er the human soul in vain!
But oft, as on their charms we gaze,
Attune the wondering soul to praise ;
And be the joys that most we prize,
The joys that from thy favour rise.
88. C. M. 61.

On the Sea Shore.
1 Beyond, beyond that boundless sea,

Above that dome of sky,
Farther than thought itself can flee,

Thy dwelling is on high
Yet, dear the awful thought to me,

That thou, my God, art nigh.
2 We hear thy voice, when thunders roll,

Through the wide fields of air;

The waves obey thy dread control ;

Yet still thou art not there.
Where shall I find him, O my soul,

Who yet is everywhere?
3 O, not in circling depth, or height,

But in the conscious breast,
Present to faith, though veiled from sight,

There does his spirit rest.
O come, thou Presence Infinite,

And make thy creature blest.

89. 10 & 6s M.


Thoughts at Sea. 1 HERE is the boundless ocean, there the sky

O’erarching broad and blue, Telling of God and heaven, how deep, how high,

How glorious and how true! 2 Upon the wave there is an anthem sweet,

Whispered in fear and love, Sending a solemn tribute to the feet

Of Him who sits above.
3 God of the waters ! nature owns her king!

The sea thy sceptre knows;
At thy command the tempest spreads its wing,

Or folds it to repose. 4 And when the whirlwind hath gone rushing by,

Obedient to thy will,
What reverence sits upon the wave and sky,

Humbled, subdued, and still !
5 0! let my soul, like the submissive sea,

With peace upon its breast,
By the deep influence of thy spirit be

Holy and hushed to rest;
6 And as the golden sun lights up the morn,

Bidding the storm depart,
So may the Sun of Righteousness adorn,

With love, my shadowed heart.


Hymn at Sea. 1 Ou Thou, who bid'st these ocean-streams

Their primal bounds and limits keep;

Who lay'st thy temple's starry beams

Unshaken on the mighty deep;
2 Conduct us o'er the trackless waste

That spurns the print of human feet,
But where thy presence may be traced

In every wind and wave we meet! 3 And as the liquid plains we rove,

Should stormy winds resistless blow,
O save us from the flash above!

O spare us from the gulf below!
4 But teach us, more than all the rest, -

To bow subinissive to thy will,
In all thy tender mercies blest

In all thy judgments, patient still !
5 That when life's weary voyage is past,

By favouring gales or tempests driven,
Our steadfast barks may gain at last
Their wished for port — their port in heaven.


91. L. M. BOWRING.

1 REVIVING sleep! thy sheltering wing

Is o'er the couch of labour spread;
Sweet minister, unearthly thing,

That hovers round the tired one's head. 2 As calm and cold as mortal clay

When life is fled, earth soundly sleeps ;
When evening veils the eye of day,

And darkness rules the ocean deeps. 3 But, lighted ’neath heaven's temple arch,

Ten thousand stars are shining round,
And all on their imposing march,

Thy everlasting praise resound. 4 O then thy spirit, Lord, anew

Enkindles strength in sleeping men;
It falls as falls the evening dew,

And life's sad waste repairs again.
5 Be nature's gentle slumbers mine;

And lead me gently to the last;
Until I hear thy voice divine,
Awake! for death's dark night is past.'

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