HYMN LXXII. 10, 11.

EHOVAH, all hail! thy name we adore,

JEH

Of wisdom the fource, the fource of all pow'r : Life and its bleffings to all creatures shall prove, Thy wisdom and power exceeded by love.

2 The food that we eat, the raiment we wear,
Thy goodness they speak, thy love they declare :
With thy bleffing us blefs, and give us thy peace,
That gratitude may with enjoyment increase.

A

UTHOR of Life, thy name we praise,
And tune the grateful fong;

To thee belong the joyful lays
That flow from ev'ry tongue.

2 Existence firft from thee arose,
From thee all bleffings flow,
Thy tender providential care
Attends where'er we go.

3 We blefs Jehovah's bounteous name,
Who for his creatures cares,

Both food and raiment, house and peace,
For all his hand prepares.

4 May grateful praise all hearts employ,
And tune creation's fong;

Jefus, blefs'd Saviour, crown our joy,
And fill with praise each tongue.

HYMN LXXIV. 8, 6.

1 MY foul, thy Maker praife,

Who reigns enthron'd above,

Make ey❜ry heart thy triumph raise,

Thou God of love.

Thy hand each want fupplies,
Our raiment gives and food,
Accept our grateful facrifice,

Thou fource of good.

HYMN LXXV. 6,8.

* CREATOR, thee we hail,
And blefs thy conftant care;
Thy ftreams of mercy cannot fail,
They always fhall appear.
Our food thy hand supplies,

A

From thee we good receive,

That seeing whence thy bleffings rise,

We to thy praise may live.

HYMN LXXVI. 8, 6.

WITH fweet delight, all-bounteous God,
Thy bleffings I receive;

Fain would I spread thy fame abroad,
And in thy love believe.

2 But still my wand'ring thoughts will rove,
And darkness cloud my mind:
Faith dies, hope fails, and trembling love,
Thy prefence cannot find.

3 Return, thou God of love! return,
Nor let my fpirits rove,

But wifdom all my bofom warm,
And fill my foul with love.

WE now will praise thee, King of Heav'n,
From whom our ev'ry good proceeds;

With grateful hearts our thanks are giv'n,
To thee who all thy creatures feeds.

z At

2 At thy command the wat'ry floods,
Expand within the arched deep;
In fprings they leave their drear abodes,
And up the lofty mountains creep.

3 From thence in murm'ring rills they glide,
Or in impetous torrents roar;
Or roll the stately river's tide,

And deck with verdure ev'ry fhore. 4 Or they in genial dews arise,

To moiften earth, and feed her flow'rs;
From thence concreting cloud the skies,
Till they descend in fat'ning show'rs.
5 Jehovah, wonderful art thou,

Nature obedient speaks thy praise;
Thee we adore, to thee we bow,
And the glad fong of triumph raife.

DEATH, RESURRECTION, AND

I

JUDGEMENT.

HYMN LXXVIII. Watts. 8.

AWAKE my zeal, awake my love,
And ferve my Saviour here below,
In works which all the Saints above,
Which holy angels cannot do.

2 My faith and hope may fee the Lord,
Tho' vails of darkness lie between

3

Hope fhall reft firm upon his word,
And faith rejoice in things unfeen.

Awake my charity, and feed

The hungry foul, and clothe the poor; In Heav'n are found no fons of need,

There all these duties are no more.

Ee 3

4 Subdue

4 Subdue thy paffions, O my foul, Maintain the fight, the work pursue, Daily thy rifing fins controul,

And be thy vict’ries ever new. 5 The land of triumph lies on high, There are no fields of battle there; Lord! I would conquer till I die, And finish all the glorious war. 6 Let ev'ry flying hour confefs

I

I gain thy Gospel fresh renown,
And when my life and labours cease,
May I poffefs the promis'd crown.

HYMN LXXIX. Watts. 8, 6.

WHY do we mourn departing friends,

Or fhake at death's alarms?

'Tis but the voice that Jefus fends,
To call them to his arms

2 Are we not tending upward too
As faft as time can move?

Nor would we wish the time more flow,
To keep us from our love.

3 Why fhould we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?

There the dear flesh of Jefus lay,
And left a long perfume.

4 The grave of all his Saints he blefs'd,
And foften'd ev'ry bed;

Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying head?

5 Thence he arofe, afcending high,
And fhow'd our feet the way:
Up to the Lord our flesh fhall fly,
At the great rifing day.

6 Then let the last trumpet found,
And bid our kindred rife;
Awake ye nations under ground,
Ye Saints afcend the skies.

HYMN LXXX. Watts. 8, 6.

I AKED as from the earth we came,
And crept to life at first,
We to the earth return again,
And mingle with our dust.

2 The dear delights we here enjoy,
And fondly call our own,

Are but fhort favours borrow'd now,
To be repaid anon.

3 'Tis God that lifts our comforts high,
Or finks them in the grave;

He gives, and (blessed be his name!)
He takes but what he gave.

4 Peace, all our angry paffions then,
Let each rebellious figh
Be filent at his fov'reign will,
And ev'ry murmur die.

5 If fmiling mercy crown our lives,
Its praifes fhall be spread,

And we'll adore the justice too
That ftrikes our comforts dead.

HYMN LXXXI. Watts. 8, 6.

GREAT God! I own thy fentence juft,

And Nature must decay,

I yield my body to the dust,

To dwell with fellow clay.

2 Yet faith may triumph o'er the grave,
And trample on the tombs:
My Jefus, my Redeemer lives,
My God, my Saviour comes.