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LISBON. S. M.

DANIEL READ.

85

The Sabbath welcome.

1 WELCOME, sweet day of rest,
That saw the Lord arise;
Welcome to this reviving breast,
And these rejoicing eyes!

2 The King himself comes near,
And feasts his saints to-day;
Here we may sit, and see him here,
And love, and praise, and pray.

3 One day in such a place,

Where thou, my God, art seen, Is sweeter than ten thousand days Of pleasurable sin.

4 My willing soul would stay
In such a frame as this,
And sit and sing herself away
To everlasting bliss.

ISAAC WATTS.

86 Day of light, rest, peace, prayer.

1 THIS is the day of light:

Let there be light to-day;

O Day-spring, rise upon our night, And chase its gloom away.

2 This is the day of rest:

Our failing strength renew;

On weary brain and troubled breast Shed thou thy freshening dew.

3 This is the day of peace: Thy peace our spirits fill;

Bid thou the blasts of discord cease, The waves of strife be still.

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Show thy reconciled face,

Take away our sin and shame; From our worldly cares set free, May we rest this day in thee.

3 Here we come thy name to praise; May we feel thy presence near: May thy glory meet our eyes,

While we in thy house appear:
Here afford us, Lord, a taste
Of our everlasting feast.

4 May thy gospel's joyful sound Conquer sinners, comfort saints; Make the fruits of grace abound,

Bring relief for all complaints: Thus may all our Sabbaths prove, Till we join the Church above.

JOHN NEWTON.

GEORGE FREDERICK HANDEL.

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EVENTIDE. 10.

WILLIAM HENRY MONE.

93

Abide with me.

1 ABIDE with me! Fast falls the eventide,
The darkness deepens-Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers fail, and comforts tee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me!

2 Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O thou, who changest not, abide with me!

3 I need thy presence every passing hour;. What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power?

Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be? Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me!

4 I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless; Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness; Where is death's sting? where, grave, thy victory?

I triumph still, if thou abide with me.

5 Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes; Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies;

Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;

In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!

HENRY F. LYTE.

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CHARLES WESLEY,

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