3 He gives the grazing ox his meat,
He hears the ravens cry;
But man, who tastes his finest wheat,
Should raise his honours high.
4 His steady counsels change the face,
Of the declining year;
He bids the sun cut short his race,
And wint'ry days appear.
5 His hoary frost, his fleecy snow,
Descend and clothe the ground;
The liquid streams forbear to flow,
In icy fetters bound.
6 When from his dreadful stores on high,
He pours the rattling hail,
The wretch that dares his God defy,
Shall find his courage fail.
7 He sends his word and melts the snow,
The fields no longer mourn;
He calls the warmer gales to blow,
And bids the Spring return.
8 The changing wind, the flying cloud,
Obey his mighty word:
With songs and honours sounding loud,
Praise ye the sov'reign Lord.
BRITAIN, praise thy mighty God,
And make his honours known abroad
He bade the ocean round thee flow,
Not bars of brass could guard thee so.
2 Thy children are secure and blest;
Thy shores have peace, thy cities rest;
He feeds thy sons with finest wheat,
And adds his blessing to their meat.
3 Thy changing seasons he ordains,
Thine early and thy latter rains:
His flakes of snow like wool he sends,
And thus the springing corn defends.
4 With hoary frost he strews the ground;
His hail descends with clatt'ring sound;
Where is the man so vainly bold,
That dares defy his dreadful cold?
5 He bids the southern breezes blow,
The ice dissolves, the waters flow:
But he hath nobler works and ways,
To call the Britons to his praise.
To all the isle his laws are shown;
His gospel through the nation known:
He hath not thus reveal'd his word
To ev'ry land: Praise ye the Lord.
90. For the Beginning of a New Year. (L. M.)
THOU, at whose almighty word
The glorious light from darkness sprung! Thy quickening influence afford,
And clothe with power the preacher's tongue.
Now, while we hear thy word of grace,
Let self and pride before it fall;
And rocky hearts dissolve apace,
In streams of sorrow at thy call.
3 On all our youth assembled here, The unction of thy Spirit pour; Nor let them lose another year,
Lest thou shouldst strive and call no more.
191. Commencing a New Year. The Fig T
Luke xiii. 6, 9. (P.M.)
THE Lord of earth and sky,
The God of ages praise,
Who reigns enthron'd on high,
Ancient of endless days;
Who lengthens out our trial here,
And spares us yet another year.
Barren and wither'd trees,
We cumber'd long the ground,
No fruit of holiness,
On our dead souls was found;
Yet doth he us in mercy spare,
Another and another year.
When justice bar'd the sword,
To cut the fig tree down;
The pity of our Lord,
Cry'd, Let it still alone.
The Father mild inclines his ear,
And spares us yet another year.
Jesus, thy speaking blood
From God obtain'd the grace,
Who therefore hath bestow'd
On us a longer space:
Thou didst on our behalf appear,
And lo, we see another year!
5 Then dig about our root,
Break up our fallow ground,
And let some gracious fruit
To thy great praise abound:
O let us all thy praise declare,
And fruit unto perfection bear.
For the New Year. (P. M.)
ANOTHER year, how sweetly run!
Another year, how soon begun!
And thus our life we spend.-
Just like a story briefly told,
We're born, and live,-and soon grow old,-
And soon our days we end!
How vain, alas! the prospect seems,—
And only fill'd with airy dreams;
And time's fantastic joys:
The same dull round of pleasure now,-
Anon,--of grief, and pain, and woe;
Thus time our years employs!
And were this all, we well might say,-
We loath it: nor would live alway;
Tir'd of the world and sin :
But patience softly cries, "I'll wait
"The days of my appointed state,"
Soon shall my heaven begin!
My fleeting days I would improve,
In works of faith and holy love;
My Jesus glorify!
Soon shall I woe and sin resign ;-
Soon in my Saviour's image shine,
In yonder world on high!
OD of our life! thy various praise,
Let mortal voices sound,
Thy hand revolves our fleeting days,
And brings the seasons round.
2 To thee, shall annual incense rise,
Our Father and our Friend;
While annual mercies from the skies,
In genial streams descend.
3 In every scene of life, thy care,
In every age, we see ;
And constant as thy favours are,
So let our praises be.
4 Still may thy love, in every scene,
To every age appear;
And let the same compassion deign,
To bless the opening year.
5 O keep this foolish heart of mine,
From anxious passions free;
Teach me each comfort to resign,
And trust my all to thee.
6 If mercy smile, let mercy bring,
My wandering soul to God;
And in affliction I shall sing,
If thou wilt bless the rod.
7 This year, perhaps, the hand of Death,
May snatch my soul away;
That awful hand may stop my breath
Before the opening day.
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