HYMN LXXXIV.

Ye know not what a day. James iv. 14.

TO-MORROW, Lord, is thine,

Lodg'd in thy sov'reign hand; And if its sun arise and shine,

It shines by thy command.

The present moment flies,

And bears our life away ;

Oh! make thy servants truly wise, That they may live to-day.

Since, on this winged hour,

Eternity is hung;

Awaken by thy mighty pow'r,
The aged and the young.

One thing demands our care,

Be that one thing pursu'd,

Lest slighted once, the season fair, Should never be renew'd.

HYMN LXXXV.

Suffer little children. Mark x. 14.

To Jordan's banks the Saviour's fame, Judea's thousands brought;

He heal'd the sick, restor❜d the lame, And wisdom's lessons taught.

Fond mothers with their infants came,
His blessing to obtain;
Meekly they bore rebuke and blame,
The valued prize to gain.

"Forbid them not," the Saviour cried, "For to such babes is given, "To dwell with God the glorified, "And worship him in heaven.”

Jesus! to thee our youth we bear!
Do thou thy grace impart ;
Give them, O Lord! a hearing ear,
Give an obedient heart.

HYMN LXXXVI.

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills. Ps. cxxi. 1.

Up to the hills I lift mine eyes,

Th' eternal hills beyond the skies;
Thence all her help my soul derives,
There my Almighty refuge lies.

He lives, the everlasting God,

That built the world, that spread the flood; The heav'ns with all their hosts he made, And the dark regions of the dead.

He guides our feet, he guards our way,
His morning smiles bless all the day;
He spreads the ev'ning veil, and keeps
The silent hours while Israel sleeps.

On them no evil shall have pow'r,
And in their last departing hour,
Angels that tread the heav'nly road,

Shall bear them homeward to their God.

HYMN LXXXVII.

What shall I render to the Lord. Ps. cxvi. 12;

WHEN all thy mercies, O my God!
My rising soul surveys;
Transported with the view, I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise.

Oh! how shall words with equal warmth,
The gratitude declare,

That glows within my constant heart;
But thou canst read it there.

Ten thousand thousand precious gifts,
My daily thanks employ ;

Nor is the least a cheerful heart,

That tastes those gifts with joy.

Through ev'ry period of my life,
Thy goodness I'll pursue;

And after death in distant worlds,

The glorious theme renew.

HYMN LXXXVIII.

Here have no continuing city. Heb. xiii. 14.

WE'VE no continuing city here;

This may distress the worldling's mind,
But should not cost the saint a tear,
Who hopes a better rest to find.

We've no abiding city here,
But seek a city out of sight;
Zion its name, the Lord is there;

It shines with everlasting light.

Joyful abode of peace and love,
Where pilgrims freed from toil, are blest;
Had I the pinions of the dove,
I'd flee to thee and be at rest.

But peace my soul, nor dare repine,
The time thy God appoints is best;
While here, to do his will be thine,

And his to fix thy time of rest.