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2 Remember thy Creator, God!
For Him thy powers employ;
Make Him thy fear, thy love, thy hope,
Thy confidence and joy.

3 He shall defend and guide thy youth
Through life's uncertain sea,

Till thou art landed on the coast
Of bless'd eternity.

4 Then seek the Lord betimes, and choose
The path of heavenly truth;
This earth affords no lovelier sight
Than a religious youth.

494. C. M. Cowper. Youth expostulated with.


RACE is a plant, where'er it grows,
Of pure and heavenly root;
But fairest in the youngest shows,
And yields the sweetest fruit.

2 Ye careless ones, now hear betimes,
The voice of sovereign love!
Your youth is stain'd with many a crime,
But mercy reigns above.

3 For you the public prayer is made,-
O, join the public prayer!
For you the trickling tear is shed,-
O, shed, yourselves, a tear!

4 We

pray that you may early prove
The Spirit's power to teach;
You cannot be too young to love
That Jesus whom we preach.

495. C. M. Walls:

and song.

The aged Christian's prayer GOD of my childhood and my youth, of all my I have declar'd thy heavenly truth, And told thy wondrous ways.

2 Wilt Thou forsake my hoary hairs,
And leave my fainting heart?
Who shall sustain my sinking years,
If God, my strength, depart?

3 Let me thy power and truth proclaim
To the surviving age,

And leave a savour of thy name,
When I shall quit the stage.

4 The land of silence and of death,
Attends my next remove;
may these remains of breath,
Teach the wide world thy love.


496. C. M.

Boast not thyself of to-morrow. Prov. xxvii. 1. Y soul, how solemn is the word,

now thine ear

May I attend it, gracious Lord,
Nor of to-morrow boast.'

2 Time! O how swift its moments flow! What millions have I lost!

Then, let me seize the golden now, 'Nor of to-morrow boast.'

3 Before the present day is past,
My soul may meet its doom;
Now let me for salvation haste,
To-morrow ne'er may come.

4 To-day may 1 the Saviour know,
And in his name believe,
Nor let these precious moments go,--
To-morrow may deceive.

5 Thy sparing mercies still abound,
And I am out of hell;-
To-day I am on mercy's ground,
To-morrow-who can tell?

497. L. M. Altered.
Whither goest thou?

MY gracious, my almighty Lord,


Nor dare delay, but answer now, This question, Whither goest thou?' 2 Is it to death, and to thy bar,

To unseen worlds where spirits are,
To boundless joy, or endless pain,
Fixt there for ever to remain?
3 Yes, I must shortly bid fareweli

To this vain world in which I dwell;
To death and to the tomb must bow
My soul, then, Whither goest thou?'
4 0 that the aged, and the young,
And all the worldly, busy throng,
Would each one put this question now,
My soul, ah! Whither goest thou?'

498. L. M. Watts.

Life the day of grace and hope. Eccl. ix. 4, 5, 6. 10 is the time to serve the

The time t' insure the great reward,

And while the lamp holds out to burn,
The vilest sinner may return.

2 Life is the hour that God has given,
To escape from hell, and fly to heaven,
The day of grace, and mortals may
Secure the blessings of the day.

3 Then what my thoughts design to do,
My hands. with all your might pursue,
Since no device, nor work is found,
Nor faith, nor hope, beneath the ground.
4 There are no acts of pardon past

In the cold grave to which we haste;
But darkness, death, and long despair,
Reign in eternal silence there.


499. C. M.


Providential mercies reviewed. Psalm ciii 1-5

WHEN all thy mercies, O my God,

My rising surveys;
Transported with the view, I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise.
2 Unnumber'd comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestow'd,
Before my infant heart conceiv'd

From whom those comforts flow'd.. 3 When in the slippery paths of youth, With heedless steps 1 ran,

Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe,
And led me up to man.

4 Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ;
Nor is the least a cheerful heart,
That tastes those gifts with joy.
5 Through every periou of my life,
Thy goodness I'll pursue;
And after death, in distant worlds,
The pleasing theme renew.
6 Through all eternity to thee
A grateful song I'll raise;
But O! eternity's too short
To utter all thy praise.


500. C. M. Watts.
Funeral Thought.

HARK! from the tombs a doleful sound,
Mine ears, attend the cry!

Ye living men, come view the ground,
Where you must shortly lie.

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2 Great God! is this our certain doom? And are we still secure!

Still walking downwards to the tomb,
And yet prepar'd no more!

3 Grant us the power of quickening grace
To fit our souls to fly;
That we may drop this dying flesh,
And mount above the sky.

501. S. M. Epis. Coll.
God my Refuge in Death.
MAYI find in death
A hiding place with God,
Secure from woe and sin, and call'd
To share his blest abode!

Cheer'd by this hope, I wait, Through toil, and care, and grief, Till my appointed course is run, And death shall bring relief.

502. C. M. Steele.

Death of a Youth

WHEN blooming youth is snatch'd away

By death's resistless hand,
Our hearts the mournful tribute pay,
Which pity must demand.

2 While pity prompts the rising sigh,
Oh, may this truth, imprest
With awful power, I too must die,'
Sink deep in every breast!

3 Let this vain world engage no more:
Behold the gaping tomb!

It bids us seize the present hour:
To-morrow death

may come.

4 The voice of this alarming scene
May every heart obey;

Nor be the heavenly warning vain,
Which calls to watch and pray

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