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Grace, pardon, life.

L. M.

FATHER of heaven, whose love profound

ransom for our souls hath found, Before thy throne we sinners bend; To us thy pard'ning love extend. 2 Almighty Son, incarnate Word, Our Prophet, Priest, Redeemer, Lord! Before thy throne we sinners bend; To us thy saving grace extend. 3 Eternal Spirit, by whose breath The soul is raised from sin and death, Before thy throne we sinners bend; To us thy quick'ning power extend. 4 Jehovah! Father, Spirit, Son, Mysterious Godhead! Three in One! Before thy throne we sinners bend; Grace, pardon, life, to us extend.

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True worship everywhere accepted.
THOU, to whom, in ancient time,

L. M.

The psalmist's sacred harp was strung, Whom kings adored in song sublime,

And prophets praised with glowing tongue :2 Not now on Zion's height alone The favour'd worshipper may dwell, Nor where, at sultry noon, thy Son Sat weary by the patriarch's well. 3 From every place below the skies, The grateful song, the fervent prayer, The incense of the heart, may rise

To heaven, and find acceptance there. 4 0 thou, to whom, in ancient time, The holy prophet's harp was strung; To thee, at last, in every clime,

Shall temples rise, and praise be sung.

THE DIVINE PERFECTIONS.

64

L. M.

God seen in his works.

THERE is a God-all nature speaks,

Through earth, and air, and seas, and skies; See-from the clouds his glory breaks, When earliest beams of morning rise.

2 The rising sun, serenely bright, Throughout the world's extended frame, Inscribes, in characters of light,

His mighty Maker's glorious name.

3 Ye curious minds, who roam abroad,
And trace creation's wonders o'er,
Confess the footsteps of
your God;
Bow down before him and adore.

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The heavens declare his glory.

spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky

L. M.

And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim:

The' unwearied sun, from day to day,
Doth his Creator's power display,

And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty Hand.

2 Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly, to the list'ning earth,
Repeats the story of her birth;
While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,

And spread the truth from pole to pole.

"

3 What, though in solemn silence all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball;
What, though no real voice nor sound
Amid the radiant orbs be found;
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice;
Forever singing as they shine,
The Hand that made us is divine.

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All His works praise Him.

C. M.

THERE seems a voice in

HERE seems a voice in every gale,

Which tells, O Lord, the wondrous tale
Of thy almighty power;

The birds, that rise on quiv'ring wing,
Proclaim their Maker's praise,

And all the mingling sounds of spring
To thee an anthem raise.

2 Shall I be mute, great God, alone
'Midst nature's loud acclaim?
Shall not my heart, with answ'ring tone,
Breathe forth thy holy name?

All nature's debt small to mine,
Nature shall cease to be;

Thou gavest-proof of love divine-
Immortal life to me.

67

A

His name is glorious.

LMIGHTY Maker, God,

How glorious is thy Name;

Thy wonders how diffused abroad,
Throughout creation's frame.

2 In native white and red

The rose and lily stand,

S. M.

And, free from pride, their beauties spread, To show thy skilful hand.