Next to thine angels is he placed,
And lord of all below.

5 How rich thy bounties are!
How wondrous are thy ways!
Of dust and worms thy power can frame
A monument of praise.

6 O Lord, our heavenly King!
Thy name is all divine;

Thy glories round the earth are spread,
And o'er the heavens they shine.

155.

C. M.

MRS. STEELE.

God's constant Mercy.

1 ALMIGHTY Father! gracious Lord!
Kind guardian of my days!
Thy mercies let my heart record
In songs of grateful praise.

2 In life's first dawn, my tender frame
Was thy indulgent care,

Long ere I could pronounce thy name,
Or breathe the infant prayer.

3 How many blessings round me shone,
Where'er I turned my eye!

How many passed almost unknown
Or unregarded by !

4 Each rolling year new favors brought
From thy exhaustless store;
But ah! in vain my laboring thought
Would count thy mercies o'er.

5 While sweet reflection through my days
Thy bounteous hand would trace,
Still dearer blessings claim thy praise,
The blessings of thy grace.

6 Yes, I adore thee, gracions Lord! For favors more divine,

That I have known thy sacred word,
Where all thy glories shine.

156.

C. M.

ADDISON.

The Same.

1 WHEN all thy mercies, O my God!
My rising soul surveys,

Transported with the view, I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise.

2 Unnumbered comforts on my soul
Thy tender care bestowed,
Before my infant heart conceived
From whom those comforts flowed.

3 When, in the slippery paths of youth,
With heedless steps I ran,

Thine arm, unseen, conveyed me safe,
And led me up to man.

4 When worn by sickness, oft hast thou
With health renewed my face,
And when in sins and sorrows sunk,
Revived my soul with grace.

5 Ten thousand thousand precious gifts.
My daily thanks employ;
Nor is the least a cheerful heart,
Which tastes those gifts with joy.

6 Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I'll pursue,
And after death, in distant worlds,
The glorious theme renew.

157.

L. M.

DODDRIDGE

God's Mercies above all Return. 1 IN glad amazement, Lord, I stand, Amidst the bounties of thy hand: How numberless those bounties are! How rich, how various, and how fair! 2 But O, what poor returns I make : What lifeless thanks I pay thee back! Lord, I confess, with humble shame, My offerings scarce deserve the name, 3 Fain would my laboring heart devise To bring some nobler sacrifice ;It sinks beneath the mighty load, 'What shall I render to my God?' 4 To him I consecrate my praise, And vow the remnant of my days; Yet what, at best, can I pretend Worthy such gifts from such a friend! 5 In deep abasement, Lord, I see My emptiness and poverty: Enrich my soul with grace divine, And make me worthier to be thine. 6 Give me at length an angel's tongue, That heaven may echo with my song: The theme, too great for time, shall be The joy of long eternity.

God our constant Benefactor. 1 My Maker, and my King! To thee my all I owe :

MRS. STEELE,

Thy sovereign bounty is the spring
Whence all my blessings flow.

2 Thou ever good and kind!
A thousand reasons move,
A thousand obligations bind
My heart to grateful love.
3 The creature of thy hand,
On thee alone I live:
My God! thy benefits demand
More praise than tongue can give.
4 O what can I impart

When all is thine before?
Thy love demands a thankful heart,—
The gift, alas, how poor!

5 Shall I withhold thy due? And shall my passions rove?

Lord, form this wretched heart anew, And fill it with thy love.

6 Olet thy grace inspire

My soul with strength divine; Let all my powers to thee aspire, And all my days be thine.

159.

S. M.

WATTS.

God's abounding Compassion. Ps. 103.

1 My soul, repeat his praise
Whose mercies are so great-
Whose anger is so slow to rise,
So ready to abate.

2 High as the heavens are raised
Above the ground we tread,
So far the riches of his grace
Our highest thoughts exceed.
3 His power subdues our sins;
And his forgiving love,

Far as the east is from the west,
Doth all our guilt remove.
4 The pity of the Lord,

To those that fear his name,
Is such as tender parents feel;
He knows our feeble frame.

5 Our days are as the grass,
Or like the morning flower:
If one sharp blast sweep o'er the field,
It withers in an hour.

6 But thy compassions, Lord,
To endless years endure;

And children's children ever find
Thy words of promise sure.

160.

S. M.

WATTS.

Bless the Lord for his Mercies. Ps. 103.

1 O BLESS the Lord, my soul;
Let all within me join,

And aid my tongue to bless his name
Whose favors are divine.

2 O bless the Lord, my soul;
Nor let his mercies lie
Forgotten in unthankfulness,
And without praises die.

3 'Tis he forgives thy sins;
"Tis he relieves thy pain;
"Tis he that heals thy sicknesses,
And makes thee young again.

4 He crowns thy life with love
When ransomed from the grave;
He that redeemed my soul from hell
Hath sovereign power to save.