458. P. M.
Hymn for Easter.
1 LIFT your glad voices in triumph on high,
For Jesus hath risen, and man cannot die.
Vain were the terrors that gathered around him,
And short the dominion of death and the grave;
He burst from the fetters of darkness that bound him,
Resplendent in glory, to live and to save.
Loud was the chorus of angels on high,
'The Saviour hath risen, and man shall not die.'
2 Glory to God, in full anthems of joy;
The being he gave us, death cannot destroy.
Sad were the life we must part with to-morrow,
If tears were our birth-right, and death were our end;
But Jesus hath cheered the dark valley of sorrow,
And bade us, immortal, to heaven ascend.
Lift then your voices in triumph on high,
For Jesus hath risen, and man shall not die.
+ Christian Disciple.
On the Death of a Child.
1 LIFE is a span, a fleeting hour;-
How soon the vapour flies!
Man is a tender, transient flower,
That e'en in blooming dies.
2 The once-loved form, now cold and dead,
Each mournful thought employs;
And nature weeps, her comforts fled,
And withered all her joys.
3 But wait the interposing gloom,
And, lo stern winter flies;
And, dressed in beauty's fairest bloom,
The flowery tribes arise.
4 Hope looks beyond the bounds of time,
When what we now deplore,
Shall rise in full immortal prime,
And bloom, to fade no more.
5 Then cease, fond nature! cease thy tears: Religion points on high;
There everlasting spring appears,
And joys that cannot die.
Prospects of the Real Christian. Ps. xvii.
1 LORD! I am thine; but thou wilt prove
My faith, my patience, and my love:
Whate'er my trials, I would see
Thy hand in all, and bow to thee.
2 What sinners value, I resign:
Lord! 'tis enough if thou art mine:
I shall behold thy blissful face,
And stand complete in righteousness.
3 This life's a dream, an empty show,
But the bright world to which I go,
Hath joys substantial and sincere:
When shall I wake and find me there!
4 O glorious hour! O blessed abode!
I shall be near, and like my God;
And flesh and sin no more control
The sacred pleasures of the soul.
5 The change will come; the active mind, To earth's low scenes no more confined, Shall burst the chains with sweet surprise, And in my Saviour's image rise.
'The Promise is to you and your Children.' Acts ii. 39.
LORD! what our ears have heard,
Our eyes delighted trace;
Thy love in long succession shown
To every rising race.
Our children thou dost claim,
And mark them out for thine;
Ten thousand blessings to thy name
For goodness so divine.
Thee, let the fathers own,
And thee, the sons adore:
Joined to the Lord in solemn vows,
To be forgot no more.
Thy covenant may they keep,
And bless the happy bands,
Which closer still engage their hearts
To honour thy commands.
5 How great thy mercies, Lord!
How plenteous is thy grace,
Which, in the promise of thy love,
Includes our rising race!
6 Our offspring, still thy care,
Shall own their fathers' God,
To latest times thy blessing share,
And sound thy praise abroad.
Reflections on the Circumstances of the past Year.
1 MARK how the swift-winged minutes fly, And hours still hasten on!
How swift the circling months run round!
How soon the year is gone!
2 Let me indulge the serious thought;
The year that's past review:
What good, what evil, have I done?
What work have I to do?
3 How is my debt of love increased.
To that sustaining Power,
Who hath upheld my feeble frame,
And brought me to this hour!
4 For all thy favours, O my God!
Thy goodness I adore:
Thou hast my cup with blessings filled,
And made that cup run o'er.
5 For thy great mercy's sake, forgive
The guilt that marks the year;
And may I more than ever strive
To keep my conscience clear.
6 What shall befall in future life
I would not, Lord! inquire:
To be prepared for all thy will,-
Be this my chief desire.
463. C. M.
The Death of Kindred improved.
1 MUST friends and kindred droop and die,
Must helpers be withdrawn,
While sorrow, with a weeping eye,
Recounts our comforts gone?
2 Be thou our comfort, mighty God!
Our Helper and our Friend:
Nor leave us in this dangerous road,
Till all our trials end.
3 O may our feet pursue the way
Our pious fathers led;
With love and holy zeal obey
The counsels of the dead!
The Daily Goodness of God.
1 My God! how endless is thy love!
Thy gifts are every evening new;
And morning mercies from above
Gently distil, like early dew.
2 Thou spread'st the curtains of the night,
Great Guardian of my sleeping hours!
Thy sovereign word restores the light,
And quickens all my drowsy powers.
3 I yield my powers to thy command;
To thee I consecrate my days;
Perpetual blessings from thy hand
Demand perpetual songs of praise.
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