XXXV.-Hay Time.

1 THE grass and flow'rs which clothe the field, And look so green

and gay,

Touch'd by the sithe, defenceless yield,
And fall, and fade away,

2 Fit emblem of our mortal state!
Thus, in the Scripture glass,

The young, the strong, the wise, the great,
May see themselves but grass*.

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

4 And you, who hitherto are spar'd,
Must shortly yield your lives;
Your wisdom is, to be prepar'd
Before the stroke arrives.

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

But, oh! if death should prove the door
To everlasting pain!

6 Lord, help us to obey thy call,

That, from our sins set free,

When like the grass our bodies fall,
Our souls may spring to thee.

1 SEE! the corn again in ear,

How the fields and valleys smile!

Harvest now is drawing near,

To repay the farmer's toil.

* Isa. xl. 7.

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

We have sinn'd, but thou art good.
2 While I view the plenteous grain
As it ripens on the stalk,
May I not instruction gain,
Helpful to my daily walk?
All this plenty of the field

Was produc'd from foreign seeds;
For the earth itself would yield
Only crops of useless weeds.

3 Though, when newly sown, it lay,
Hid awhile beneath the ground,
(Some might think it thrown away,)
Now a large increase is found.
Though conceal'd, it was not lost;
Though it died, it lives again;
Eastern storms, and nipping frosts,
Have oppos'd its growth in vain.
4 Let the praise be all the Lord's,
As the benefit is ours!
He, in season, still affords

Kindly heat and gentle show'rs:
By his care the produce thrives,
Waving o'er the furrow'd lands;
And, when harvest-time arrives,
Ready for the reaper stands.
5 Thus in barren hearts he sows
Precious seeds of heav'nly joy*;
Sin and hell in vain oppose,
None can grace's crop destroy:
Threat'ned oft, yet still it blooms;
After many changes past,
Death, the reaper, when he comes,
Finds it fully ripe at last.

*Hosea xiv. 7. Mark iv. 26-29.

CHRISTMAS.

XXXVII.-Praise for the Incarnation.

1 SWEETER sound than music knows Charm me in Immanuel's name; All her hopes my spirit owes

To his birth, and cross, and shame. 2 When he came, the angels sung, Glory be to God on high!'

Lord, unloose my stamm'ring tongue;
Who should louder sing than I?

3 Did the Lord a man become,
That he might the law fulfil,
Bleed and suffer in my room,

And canst thou, my tongue, be still?

4 No, I must my praises bring,

Though they worthless are, and weak; For, should I refuse to sing,

Sure the very stones would speak.

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.

1 My song shall bless the Lord of all, My praise shall climb to his abode; Thee, Saviour, by that name I call, The great Supreme, the mighty God.

2 Without beginning or decline, Object of faith, and not of sense; Eternal ages saw him shine,

He shines eternal ages hence.

3 As much, when in the manger laid, Almighty ruler of the sky,

As when the six days' work he made Fill'd all the morning stars with joy. 4 Of all the crowns Jehovah bears, Salvation is his dearest claim ; That gracious sound well-pleas'd he hears, And owns Immanuel for his name.

5 A cheerful confidence I feel,

My well-plac'd hopes with joy I see;
My bosom glows with heav'nly zeal,
To worship him who died for me.
6 As man, he pities my complaint;
His pow'r and truth are all divine :
He will not fail, he cannot faint;
Salvation 's sure, and must be mine.

XXXIX.-Man honoured above Angels.

1 Now let us join with hearts and tongues, And emulate the angels' songs;

Yea, sinners may address their King
In songs that angels cannot sing.

2 They praise the Lamb who once was slain*
But we can add a higher strain;
Not only say, 'He suffer'd thus,
But that he suffer'd all for us.'
s When angels by transgression fell,
Justice consign'd them all to hell;
But mercy form'd a wondrous plan,
To save and honour fallen man.

4 Jesus, who pass'd the angels by,
Assum'd our flesh to bleed and diet;
And still he makes it his abode;

As

man,

he fills the throne of God.

* Rev. v.

+ Heb. ii. 16.

5. Our next of kin, our brother now,
Is he to whom the angels bow;

They join with us to praise his name,
But we the nearest int'rest claim.

6 But, ah! how faint our praises rise!
Sure 'tis the wonder of the skies,

That we, who share his richest love, So cold and unconcern'd should prove. 7 O glorious hour, it comes with speed, When we, from sin and darkness freed, Shall see the God who died for man, And praise him more than angels can

XL.- Saturday Evening.

1 SAFELY through another week
God has brought us on our way;
Let us now a blessing seek,
On th' approaching Sabbath-day:
Day, of all the week, the best,
Emblem of eternal rest.

2 Mercies multiply'd each hour,
Through the week our praise demand ;
Guarded by almighty pow'r,

Fed and guided by his hand :

Though ungrateful we have been,
Only made returns of sin.

$ While we pray for pard'ning grace, Through the dear Redeemer's name, Shew thy reconciled face,

Shine away our sin and shame :

From our worldly cares set free, May we rest this night with thee! 4 When the morn shall bid us rise, May we feel thy presence near! May thy glory meet our eyes, When we in thy house appear ! * Book III. Hymn 88.