Hymn 34.

SEASON S.

175

Winter threat'ned to deftroy
Faith and love, and ev'ry joy;
If thy life was in the root,
Still I could not yield thee fruit.
4 Speak, and by thy gracious voice
Make my drooping foul rejoice;
O beloved Saviour, hafte,
Tell me, all the storms are paft :
On thy garden deign to fmile,
Raife the plants, enrich the foil;
Soon thy prefence will restore
Life to what feem'd dead before.

5 Lord, I long to be at home,
Where thefe changes never come !
Where the faints no winter fear,
Where 'tis fpring throughout the year:
How unlike this ftate below!
There the flow'rs unwith'ring blow;
There no chilling blafts annoy;
All is love, and bloom, and joy.

I

XXXIV. Summer Storms

THO

'HO' the morn may be ferene,
Not a threat'ning cloud be feen,

Who can undertake to fay,

'Twill be pleasant all the day?
Tempests suddenly may rise,
Darkness overfpread the skies,
Lightnings flash, and thunders roar,
Ere a fhort-liv'd day be o'er.

2 Often thus the child of grace
Enters on his Chriftian race;
Guilt and fear are overborne,
'Tis with him a fummer's morn;,

Book III. Hymn 68.

H 4

While

While his new-felt joys abound,
All things feem to fmile around;
And he hopes it will be fair,
All the day, and all the year.

3 Should we warn him of a change,
He would think the caution strange
He no change or trouble fears,
Till the gath'ring ftorm appears*;
Till dark clouds his fun conceal,
Till temptation's pow'r he feel;
Then he trembles, and looks pale,
All his hopes and courage fail.
4 But the wonder-working Lord
Soothes the tempeft by his word;
Stills the thunder, ftops the rain,
And his fun breaks forth again:
Soon the cloud again returns,
Now he joys, and now he mourns;
Oft his fky is overcaft,

Ere the day of life be past.

5 Try'd believers too can fay, In the courfe of one short day, Tho' the morning has been fair, Prov'd a golden hour of pray's, Sin, and Satan, long ere night, Have their comforts put to flight; Ah! what heart-felt peace and joy Unexpected ftorms destroy. 6 Dearest Saviour, call us foon To thine high eternal noon; Never there fhall tempeft rife, To conceal thee from our eyes: Satan fhall no more deceive, We no more thy Spirit grieve; But thro' cloudlefs endless days, Sound, to golden harps, thy praife.

Book I. Hymn 44.

XXXV. Hay-time.

THE grafs, and flow'rs, which clothe the
field,

And look fo green and gay,
Touch'd by the fcythe, defencelefs yield,
And fall, and fade away.

2 Fit emblem of our mortal state t
Thus in the fcripture glass,

The young, the strong, the wife, the great,
May fee themselves but grafs

*

3. Ah! truft not to your fleeting breath,
Nor call your time your own;
Around you fee the fcythe of death
Is mowing thousands down.

4 And you, who hitherto are fpar'd,
Muft fhortly yield your lives;
Your wifdom is, to be prepar'd
Before the stroke arrives.

The grafs, when dead, revives no more
You die to live again;

But oh! if death fhould prove the door
To everlasting pain.

6 Lord, help us to obey thy call,
That, from our fins fet free,

When like the grafs our bodies fall,,
Our fouls may fpring to thee.

XXXVI. Harvest.

1 SEE! the corn again in ear!

How the fields and valleys fimile!
Harveft now is drawing near,
To repay the farmer's toil:

Ifaiah, xl. 7.

Gracious

Gracious Lord, fecure the crop,
Satisfy the poor with food;
In thy mercy is our hope,

We have finn'd, but thou art good.
2 While I view the plenteous grain
As it ripens on the ftalk,
May I not inftruction gain
Helpful to my daily walk?
All this plenty of the field.
Was produc'd from foreign feeds;
For the earth itself would yield
Only crops of useless weeds.
B Tho', when newly fown, it lay
Hid awhile beneath the ground,
(Some might think it thrown away),
Now a large increase is found:
Tho' conceal'd, it was not loft;
Tho' it dy'd, it lives again;

Eaftern forms, and nipping frofis,
Have oppos'd its growth in vain.
4 Let the praise be all the Lord's,
As the benefit is ours!

5

He, in feafon, ftill affords
Kindly heat, and gentle fhow'rs:
By his care the produce thrives,
Waving o'er the furrow'd lands;
And when harveft-time arrives,
Ready for the reaper ftands.

Thus in barren hearts he fows
Precious feeds of heav'nly joy *;
Sin and hell in vain oppofe,
None can grace's crop deftroy
Threat'ned oft, yet till it blooms,
After many changes paft,

Death, the reaper, when he comes,
Finds it fully ripe at laft.

Hofea, xiv. 7.; Mark, iv, 26.-29.

CHRIST

I

CHRIST MA S.

XXXVII. Praife for the Incarnation..

Sweeter

weeter founds than mufic knows Charm me in Emmanuel's name; All her hopes my spirit owes

To his birth, and crofs, and fhame.. 2. When he came, the angels fung, "Glory be to God on high;" Lord, unloofe my ftamm'ring tongue, Who fhould louder fing than 1 ?

3 Did the Lord a man become,

That he might the law fulfil,
Bleed and fuffer in my room,

And can't thou, my tongue, be ftill?

4 No, I muft my praises bring,

Tho' they worthless are and weak;
For fhould I refuse to fing,

Sure the very ftones would fpeak.

5 O my Saviour, Shield, and Sun, Shepherd, Brother, Husband, Friend,. Ev'ry precious name in one,

I will love thee without end.

XXXVIII. C. JEHOVAH-JESUS.

MY fong fhall blefs the Lord of all,
My praise thall climb to his abode
Thee, Saviour, by that name I call,
The great, fupreme, the mighty God.
2. Without beginning or decline,
Object of faith, and not of fenfe ;:
Eternal ages faw him shine,

He fhines eternal ages hence.

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