Let the fiery, cloudy pillar
Lead me all my journey through.
3 When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious fears subside;
Thou of death and hell the conqueror,
Land me safe on Canaan's side.
1 WHILE beauty clothes the fertile vale,
And blossoms on the spray,
And fragrance breathes in every gale,
How sweet the vernal day!
2 How kind the influence of the skies'
Soft showers, with blessings frau,
Bid verdure, fragrance, beauty rise,
And fix the roving thought.
3 0 let my wandering heart contees,
With gratitude and love,
The bounteous hand, that deigns to less
The garden, field, and grove.
4 Inspired to praise, I then shall join
Glad nature's cheerful song;
And love and gratitude divine
Attune my joyful tongue.
1 WHEN brighter suns and milder skies
Proclaim the opening year,
What various sounds of joy arise!
What prospects bright appear!
2 Earth and her thousand voices give
Their thousand notes of praise;
And all, that by his mercy live,
To God their offering raise.
3 The streams, all beautiful and bright,
Reflect the morning sky;
And there, with music in his flight,
The wild bird soars on high.
4 Thus, like the morning, calm and clear,
That saw the Saviour rise,
The spring of heaven's eternal year
Shall dawn on earth and skies.
5 No winter there, no shades of night,
Profane those mansions blest,
Where, in the happy fields of light,
The weary are at rest.
1 THERE seems a voice in every gale,
A tongue in every opening flower,
Which tells, O Lord! the wondrous tale
Of thine indulgence, love and power.
2 The birds that rise on soaring wing,
Appear to hymn their Maker's praise,
And all the mingling sounds of spring
To thee a grateful anthem raise.
3 And shall my voice, great God, alone
Be mute midst nature's loud acclaim?
No; let my heart with answering tone
Breathe forth in praise thy holy name.
4 And nature's debt is small to mine,
Thou badest her being bounded be,
But,-matchless proof of love divine,—
Thou gavest eternal life to me.
1 'Tis summer, glorious summer,Look to the glad green earth,
How from her grateful bosom,
The herb and flower spring forth ;—
These are her rich thanksgivings,
The incense floats above!
Father! what may we offer?
Thy chosen flower is love!
2 "T is summer, blessed summer,-
The lofty hills are bright;
All nature's fountains sparkle,—
Shall ours have lesser light?
No! bid each spirit praise Him,
Who hangs on every tree
A thousand living lyres,
Awaking harmony!
3 'T is summer in our bosoms,
When youthful snares we fly,
And strength and peace are given
By angel ministry.-
'Tis summer in yon heaven,
Where, Teachers, ye shall know
While time shall last the blessedness
Wrought by your love below.
1 WITH songs and honors sounding loud,
Address the Lord on high;
Over the heavens he spreads his cloud,
And waters veil the sky.
2 He sends his showers of blessings down,
To cheer the plains below;
He makes the grass the mountains crown,
And corn in valleys grow.
3 His steady counsels change the face
Of the declining year;
He bids the sun cut short his race,
And wintry days appear.
4 His hoary frost, his fleecy snow,
Descend and clothe the ground;
The liquid streams forbear to flow,
In icy fetters bound.
5 He sends his word, and melts the snow,
The fields no longer mourn;
He calls the warmer gales to blow,
And bids the spring return.
6 The changing wind, the flying cloud,
Obey his mighty word;
With songs and honors sounding loud,
Praise ye the sovereign Lord.
1 TEN thousand different flowers
To thee sweet offerings bear;
And cheerful birds in shady bowers
Sing forth thy tender care.
2 The fields on every side,
The trees on every hill;
The glorious sun, the rolling tide,
Proclaim thy wonders still.
3 But trees, and fields, and skies,
Still praise a God unknown;
For gratitude and love can rise
From living hearts alone.
4 These living hearts of ours
Thy holy name would bless;
The blossoms of ten thousand flowers
Would please the Saviour less.
5 While earth itself decays,
Our souls can never die ;
O tune them all to sing thy praise
In better songs on high.
1 EVERY sheaf of golden grain,
Standing on the smiling plain,
Tells us, if we do not know,
Whence our many blessings flow.
2 Thanks we bring for earthly good,
Nobler thanks for richer food;
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