1 SWEET is the place of play,
And sweet our daily toys,
But sweeter far the day
Of sacred joys.
Then hither come we year by year,
And ever in our class appear,
And love the School, the Church, the Lord,
And God's holy word.
Sweet is the place of play, &c.
2 Here, in this happy place,
May we our teachers meet,
To hear their words of grace,
At Jesus' feet.
Oh, who from hence would stay away,
Upon the blessed Sabbath day,
From themes so high, from thoughts so pure,
Ever to endure?
Here, in this happy place, &c.
3 Here, with a filial love,
Each child to God may come,
And learn to rise above
For heaven, his home.
Oh, come then, here, where virtues bloom,
And shed around their rich perfume,
And where, like dew-drops on the flower,
Duties gild the hour.
Here, with a filial love, &c.
4 Then life shall onward pass,
In this one blest employ,
And conscience, like a glass,
Reflect our joy.
And when, at last, we reach the tomb,
Our faith shall wreath it with the bloom
Of that sweet plant that ne'er can die-
Immortality!
Then life shall onward pass, &c.
1 THE Sunday School is open to all—
Will you come? Will you come?
Yes, thronging at our pastor's call-
We will come! We will come!
Children may here that good obtain
That saves from noxious fear and pain:
Then let no cause our steps restrain,-
Hither come! Hither come!
2 We hear our gentle teacher's voice—
Hither come! Hither come!
As wisdom now should be our choice-
We will come! We will come !
For here our hearts with love may burn,
Of God, of Heaven, of Jesus learn
From every sin our steps to turn-
We will come! We will come !
3 The daring tempter stands without---
Will you come? Will you come?
Pleasure sends up her noisy shout-
Will you come? Will you come?
O never let us heed their cry,
But from their wiles with terror fly
And passing all our tempters by,-
Let us come! Let us come!
4 Angels will hear the blissful sound-
We will come! We will come !
The heart with joy ecstatic bound,-
We will come! We will come!
Our Heavenly Father's eye shail see
That we are where we e'er should be,
Within his temple gates so free-
We will come! We will come !
L. G. PRAY.
The Sunday School. 8 & 7's M. Greenville. Sicilian Hymn
1 FATHER, Lord of life and glory,
Friend of children, hear our lays;
Humbly would our souls adore thee,
Sing thy name in hymns of praise.
2 We are debtors to thy kindness,
God of grace and boundless love;
Thousands wander on in blindness,
Strangers to the light above.
3 But 't is ours to read the pages,
Where the rays of glory glow,
And, through everlasting ages,
We aspire its bliss to know.
4 Father, on thy arm relying,
We would tread this earthly vale;
Be our life, when we are dying,
Be our strength, when strength shall fail
Thanks for the Sunday School. L. M.
1 GREAT God, accept our songs of praise,
Which now with grateful hearts we raise;
Bless our attempts to spread abroad
The knowledge of our Saviour God.
2 O Lord, to thee our thanks are due,
For those who here their kindness show,
In pointing out the blessed road
That leads through Christ the way to God.
3 We claim no merit of our own,
Great God, the work is thine alone!
Thou didst at first our hearts incline
To enter on this work of thine.
4 Here we are taught to read and pray,
To hear thy word, to keep thy day;
Lord, here accept the thanks we bring,
Our infant tongues thy praise would sing.
5 With these dear children we 'll unite,
Their songs inspire us with delight;
Lord, while on earth we sing thy love,
May angels join their notes above.
6 Great God, our benefactors bless,
And crown thy work with great success;
O may we meet around thy throne,
To sing thy praise in strains unknown.
Watchman; S. S. S. B. p. 60.
1 TEACHER! at the feet of love
Taking thus thy weekly place,
Giving lessons from above,
With a winning voice and face;
In thy patient, pious toil,
In thy humble, holy task,
Who may covet richer spoil?
Who may higher honors ask?
2 Anxious that the Shepherd's care,
Staff and rod, the flock shall keep;
Can'st thou cease prevailing prayer?
Can'st thou fold thine arms in sleep?
No! I see thee search the Book,
On whose page is living light;
And I see thee upward look
For the grace to search aright.
3 Yes; and while to others thou
Dost life's lessons thus impart,
Hoping future harvest, Now
Is the harvest in thine heart!
Say not months and years to cont,
God will give the golden grain;
Shout a present harvest home!
Fruit for labor, joy for pain.
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