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2 As the winged arrow flies,
Speedily the mark to find;

As the lightning from the skies
Darts, and leaves no trace behind;
Swiftly thus our fleeting days
Bear us down life's rapid stream:
Upwards, Lord, our spirits raise;
All below is but a dream.

3 Thanks for mercies past receive;

Pardon of our sins renew;
Teach us henceforth how to live
With eternity in view.
Bless Thy word to young and old;
Fill us with our Father's love;
And, when life's short tale is told,
May we dwell with Thee above!

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1 Awake, ye saints, and raise your eyes,

And raise your voices high;
Awake, and praise that sovereign love

Which shows salvation nigh.

2 On all the wings of Time it flies;

Each moment brings it near;
Then welcome each declining day;

Welcome each closing year.

3 Not many years their round shall run,

Not many mornings rise,
Ere all its glories stand revealed

To our admiring eyes. 4 Ye wheels of Nature, speed your course;

Ye mortal powers, decay;
Fast as ye bring the night of death,

Ye bring eternal day.

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1 Another fleeting day is gone,

Slow o'er the west the shadows rise ;
Swift the soft stealing hours have flown,

And night's dark mantle veils the skies. 2 Another fleeting day is gone,

Swept from the records of the year;
And still, with each successive sun,

Life's fading visions disappear. 3 Another fleeting day is gone

To join the fugitives before;
And I, when life's employ is done,

Shall sleep, to wake in time no more. 4 Another fleeting day is gone,

But soon a fairer day shall rise,
A day whose never-setting sun
Shall pour his light o'er cloudless skies.

5 Another fleeting day is gone,

In solemn silence rest, my soul;
Bow down before His awful throne
Who bids the morn and evening roll.

529. L. M.
1 Our Father! bless us ere we go ;

Thy word into our minds instil;
And make our lukewarm hearts to glow
With lowly love and fervent will.
Through life's long day, and death's dark night,

O God of Jesus! be our Light!
2 The day is done; its hours have run;

And Thou hast taken count of all,
The scanty triumphs grace hath won,
The broken vow, the frequent fall.
Through life's long day, and death's dark night,

O God of Jesus! be our Light!
3 Do more than pardon; give us joy,

Sweet awe, and sober liberty,
And simple hearts without alloy,
That only long to be like Thee.
Through life's long day, and death's dark night,

O God of Jesus! be our Light !
4 For all we love, — the poor, the sad,

The sinful,- unto Thee we call; O let Thy mercy make us glad, Thou art our God, Thou art our All! Through life's long day, and death's dark night, O God of Jesus! be our Light!

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1 Oh! Day of days ! shall hearts set free

No “minstrel rapture" find for thee?
Thou art the Sun of other days,

They shine by giving back thy rays: 2 Enthroned in thy sovereign sphere

Thou shedd'st thy light on all the year: Sundays by thee more glorious break, An Easter day in every week:

3 And week-days, following in their train,

The fulness of thy blessing gain,
Till all, both resting and employ,

Be one Lord's day of holy joy.
4 Then wake, my soul, to high desires,

And earlier light thine altar fires :
The World some hours is on her way,

Nor thinks on thee, thou blessed Day: 5 Or if she think, it is in scorn:

The vernal light of Easter morn
To her dark gaze no brighter seems

Than Reason's or the Law's pale beams. 6 “Where is your Lord ?” she scornful asks:

“ Where is his hire? we know his tasks; Sons of a King ye boast to be, Let us your crowns and treasures see.”

7 We in the words of Truth reply,

An Angel brought them from the sky,
“Our crown, our treasure, is not here,

'T is stored above the highest sphere : 8 We watch not now the lifeless stone;

Our only Lord is risen and gone.
And the whole world, now Christ hath died,

Ennobled is and glorified.
9 'T is now a cell, where Angels use

To come and go with heavenly news,
And in the ears of mourners say,

“Come, see the place where Jesus lay.” 10 T is now a fane, where Love can find

Christ everywhere embalmed and shrined; ;
Aye gathering up memorials sweet,

Where'er she sets her duteous feet. 11 So be it still: to holy tears,

In lonely hours, Christ risen appears :
In social hours, who Christ would see,
Must turn all tasks to Charity.

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1 See the leaves around us falling,

Dry and withered, to the ground;
Now to thoughtless mortals calling
With a sweet and solemn sound :

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