PART THIRD.

401. c. M.

God the Refuge of the Afflicted.

1 AFFLICTION is a stormy deep,
Where wave resounds to wave;
Though o'er my head the billows roll,
I know the Lord can save.

2 When darkness and when sorrows rose; And pressed on every side,

The Lord hath still sustained my steps,
And still hath been my guide.

3 Perhaps, before the morning dawn,
He will restore my peace;
For he who bade the tempest roar,
Can bid the tempest cease.

4 In the dark watches of the night
I'll count his mercies o'er;
I'll praise him for ten thousand past,
And humbly sue for more.

5 Here will I rest, here build my hopes, Nor murmur at his rod;

He's more than all the world to me,
My health, my life, my God.

Cotton

402. C. M.

God our perpetual Benefactor.

1 ALMIGHTY Father! gracious Lord!
Kind Guardian of my days!"
Thy mercies let my heart record
In songs of grateful praise.

2 In life's first dawn, my tender frame
Was thy indulgent care,

Before I could pronounce thy name,
Or breathe an infant's prayer.

3 When reason with my stature grew, How feeble was her aid!

How little of my God I knew!
How oft from thee I strayed!

4 When life hung trembling on a breath,
'Twas thy unfailing love

That saved me from impending death,
And bade my fears remove.

5 How many blessings round me shone
Where'er I turned mine eye!

How many passed, almost unknown,
Or unregarded, by!

6 Each rolling year new favours brought
From thine exhaustless store:

In vain, great God! my labouring thought Would count thy mercies o'er.

7 While thus reflection, through my days, Thy bounteous hand would trace, Superior blessings claim my praise; The blessings of thy grace.

8 Yes, I adore thee, gracious Lord!
For favours nobler still-

The truths and precepts of thy word,
Which teach me all thy will.

403. C. M.

Mrs. Steele.

Serious Reflections on our Moral Condition.

[For the Close of the Year.]

1 AND now, my soul! another
Of my short life is past:
I cannot long continue here;
And this may be my last.

year

2 Part of my doubtful life is gone,
Nor will return again ;

And swift my fleeting moments run-
The few which yet remain!

3 Awake, my soul! with all thy care Thy true condition learn;

What are thy hopes, how sure, how fair,
And what thy great concern?

4 Now a new space of life begins;
Set out afresh for heaven:
Seek pardon for thy former sins,
Through Christ, so freely given.

5 Devoutly yield thyself to God,
And on his grace depend;
With zeal pursue the heavenly road,
Nor doubt a happy end.

† Exeter Coll.

404. L. M.

For the Dedication of a Place of Worship. Ps. lxxxvii. 5.

1 AND will the great eternal God
On earth establish his abode ?
And will he from his radiant throne
Regard our temples as his own?

2 These walls we to thy honour raise ;
Long may they echo with thy praise;
And thou, descending, fill the place
With choicest blessings of thy grace.

3 And in the great decisive day,
When God the nations shall survey,
May it before the world appear,
That crowds were born to glory, here.

405. L. M.

An Evening Hymn.

Doddridge.

1 ANOTHER fleeting day is gone :
Slow o'er the west the shadows rise;
Swift the soft stealing hours have flown,
And night's dark, mantle veils the skies.

2 Another fleeting day is gone,
Swept from the records of the year;
And still, with each successive sun,
Life's fading visions disappear.

3 Another fleeting day is gone
To join the fugitives before;
And I, when life's employ is done,
Shall sleep, in time to wake no more.

4 Another fleeting day is gone,
But soon a fairer day shall rise,
A day whose never-setting sun
Shall pour its light o'er cloudless skies.

5 Another fleeting day is gone;
In solemn silence rest, my soul;
Bow down before his awful throne,
Who bids the morn and evening roll.

406. L. M.

On the Death of a Child.

† Collyer's Coll.

1 As the sweet flower which scents the morn, But withers in the rising day,

Thus lovely seemed the infant's dawn!
Thus swiftly fled his life away!

2 Ere sin could blight, or sorrow fade,
Death timely came with friendly care;
The opening bud to heaven conveyed,
And bade it bloom for ever there.

3 Yet the sad hour that took the boy
Perhaps has spared a heavier doom,
Snatched him from scenes of guilty joy,
Or from the pangs of ills to come.

4 He died before his infant soul
Had ever burned with wrong desire;
Had ever spurned at heaven's control,
Or ever quenched its sacred fire.

5 He died to sin, he died to care;
But for a moment felt the rod;
Then, springing on the viewless air,
Spread his light wings, and soared to God.
† Belfast Select.

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