3 The God we serve maintains his throne Above the clouds, beyond the skies, Through all the earth his will is done, He knows our groans, he hears our cries. 4 But the vain idols they adore

Are senseless shapes of stone and wood:
At best a mass of glittering ore,
A silver saint, or golden god.

5 [With eyes and ears they carve their head.
Deaf are their ears, their eyes are blind!
In vain are costly offerings made,
And vows are scattered in the wind.
6 Their feet were never made to move,
Nor hands to save when mortals pray:
Mortals that pay them fear or love
Seem to be blind and deaf as they.]
70 Israel, make the Lord thy hope,
Thy help, thy refuge, and thy rest!
The Lord shall build thy ruins up,
And bless the people and the priest.
8 The dead no more can speak thy praise,
They dwell in silence and the grave;
But we shall live to sing thy grace,
And tell the world thy power to save.

Immortal honours to thy sovereign name. Shine through the earth, from heaven thy blest abode,

Nor let the heathen say, 'And where 's your God?

6 O Britain, trust the Lord! thy foes in vain
Attempt thy ruin, and oppose his reign;
Had they prevail'd, darkness had closed our days,
And death and silence had forbid his praise;
But we are saved and live; let songs arise,
And Britons bless the God that built the skies.

116

I

PARTI. C. M. Harrington, 143.
Recovery from sickness.

LOVE the Lord: he heard my cries,
And pitied every groan:
Long as I live, when troubles rise,

I'll hasten to his throne.

2 I love the Lord: he bow'd his ear,
And chased my griefs away;
O let my heart no more despair,
While I have breath to pray!

3 My flesh declined, my spirits fell,
And I drew near the dead,

While inward pangs and fears of hell
Perplex'd my wakeful head.

4 'My God,' I cried, "thy servant save, Thou ever good and just;

Thy power can rescue from the grave,
Thy power is all my trust.'

5 The Lord beheld me sore distress'd,
He bid my pains remove;
Return, my soul, to God thy rest,
For thou hast known his love.

6 My God hath saved my soul from death, And dried my falling tears;

Now to his praise I'll spend my breath,
And my remaining years.

throne;

And through the lower worlds thy will is done : Our God framed all this earth, these heavens

he spread,

[made;

But fools adore the gods their hands have The kneeling crowd, which looks devout, behold Their silver saviours, and their saints of gold. 3 [Vain are those artful shapes of eyes and ears; The molten image neither sees nor hears; Their hands are helpless, nor their feet can [nor love;

move,

They have no speech, nor thought, nor power, Yet sottish mortals make their long complaints To their deaf idols and their moveless saints. 4 The rich have statues well adorn'd with gold; The poor, content with gods of coarser mould, With tools of iron carve the senseless stock, Lopp'd from a tree, or broken from a rock; People and priest drive on the solemn trade, And trust the gods that saws and hammers made.] í Be heaven and earth amazed; 't is hard to say Which is more stupid, or their gods or they; O Israel, trust the Lord! he hears and sees, He knows thy sorrows, and restores thy peace; His worship does a thousand comforts yield; He is thy help, and he thy heavenly shield.

2

3

For all his kindness shown? My feet shall visit thine abode, My songs address thy throne.

Among the saints that fill thine house My offerings shall be paid;

There shall my zeal perform the vows My soul in anguish made.

How much is mercy thy delight, Thou ever blessed God!

How dear thy servants in thy sight!
How precious is their blood!

4 How happy all thy servants are!
How great thy grace to me!

My life, which thou hast made thy care,
Lord, I devote to thee.

5 Now I am thine, for ever thine,
Nor shall my purpose move;
Thy hand hath loosed my bonds of pain,
And bound me with thy love.

6 Here in thy courts I leave my vow,
And thy rich grace record:
Witness, ye saints, who hear me now,
If I forsake the Lord.

118 S. M.

Cambridge, 48.

Ver. 165.

1 SEE what a living stone

The builders did refuse;

Yet God hath built his church thereon In spite of envious Jews.

2 The scribe and angry priest
Reject thine only Son:

Yet on this rock shall Zion rest,
As the chief corner stone.

3 The work, O Lord, is thine,
And wondrous in our eyes;
This day declares it all divine,
This day did Jesus rise.

4 This is the glorious day

That our Redeemer måde:

Let us rejoice, and sing, and pray:
Let all the church be glad.

5 Hosanna to the King

Of David's royal blood;

How firm their souls abide! Nor can a bold temptation draw Their steady feet aside.

118 L. M.

0!

Foundling, 556.

Ver. 22-27, The Lord's day.

LO! what a glorious corner-stone

The Jewish builders did refuse;

But God hath built his church thereon, In spite of envy and the Jews.

2 Great God, the work is all divine, The joy and wonder of our eyes; This is the day that proves it thine, The day that saw our Saviour rise. 3 Sinners, rejoice; and saints, be glad; Hosanna, let his name be bless'd; A thousand honours on his head, With peace, and light, and glory rest! 4 In God's own name he comes to bring Salvation to our dying race:

Let the whole church address their King With hearts of joy, and songs of praise.

1

TM

PART II. C. M.

Piety, 513.

Secret devotion and spiritual

mindedness.

Ver. 147, 55.

thee, before the dawning light, My gracious God, I pray;

I meditate thy name by night,
And keep thy law by day.

1

2 I chose the path of heavenly truth,
And glory in my choice:
Not all the riches of the earth
Could make me so rejoice.

3 The testimonies of thy grace
I set before my eyes;
Thence I derive my daily strength,
And there my comfort lies.

But, Lord, if once compared with thine,
How mean their writings look!

2 Not the most perfect rules they gave
Could show one sin forgiven,
Nor lead a step beyond the grave;
But thine conduct to heaven.

3 I 've seen an end of what we call
Perfection here below;

How short the powers of nature fall,
And can no further go!

4 Yet men would fain be just with God

By works their hands have wrought; But thy commands, exceeding broad, Extend to every thought.

5 In vain we boast perfection here,
While sin defiles our frame,

And sinks our virtues down so far,
They scarce deserve the name.

6 Our faith and love, and every grace,
Fall far below thy word:

But perfect truth and righteousness
Dwell only with the Lord.

3 Since I'm a stranger here below,

Let not thy path be hid;

But mark the road my feet should go, And be my constant guide.