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Let the people praise thee O God. Ps. Ixvii. 3.

From all that dwell below the skies
Let the Creator's praise arise.
Let the Redeemer's name be sung
Through ev'ry land, by ev'ry tongue.

Eternal are thy mercies, Lord;
Eternal truth attends thy word.
Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore,
Till suns shall rise and set no more.

Your lofty themes, ye mortals, bring :
In songs of praise devoutly sing ;
The great salvation loud proclaim,
And shout for joy the Saviour's name.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow! Praise Him, all creatures here below! Praise Him above, ye heav'nly host ! Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost !

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Come over and help us. Acts xvi. 9. From Greenland's icy mountains,

From India's coral strand, Where Afric's sunny fountains

Roll down their golden sand : From many an ancient river,

From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver

Their land from error's chain.

What though the spicy breezes

Blow soft o'er Java’s isle;
Though every prospect pleases,

And only man is vile!
In vain with lavish kindness,

The gifts of God are strewn; The heathen, in his blindness,

Bows down to wood and stone.

Can we, whose souls are lighted

With wisdom from on high,

Can we, to men benighted

The lamp of life deny ?
Salvation ! oh, salvation !

The joyful sound proclaim ;
Till each remotest nation

Has learn’d Messiah's name.

Waft, waft ye winds, his story ;

And you, ye waters, roll,
Till, like a sea of glory,

It spreads from pole to pole :
Till o'er our ransom'd nature,

The Lamb, for sinners slain, Redeemer! King ! Creator !

In bliss returns to reign. Missionary Hymn.


Praise Him Sun and Moon. Psalm cxlviii. 3.

From vocal air and concave skies,

Let wafted hallelujahs sound; And let the sacred triumphs rise,

Till vaulted heav'ns the notes rebound.

Thou solar orb! whose ruddy beam

Compels the shades of night to yield; Thou silver moon! whose fainter gleam

Scarce trembles o'er yon azure field !

Ye stars ! who circle round the pole,

Illumin’d with celestial rays; Instruct your vocal spheres to roll

Symphonious to your Maker's praise.

Your voices raise with mix'd acclaim,

To praise the universal Lord ; The sole august majestic name

O’er earth and distant heav'n ador’d.


Thy footsteps are not known. Psalm lxxvii. 19.
God moves in a mysterious way,

His wonders to perform ;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,

* And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,

And works his sov'reign will.

Ye fearful saints fresh courage take;

The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break

In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning providence

He hides a smiling face.

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