But there, my God, Thy glories shine,
And in Thy House abide;

Hence shall that noblest work be mine,
To spread her honours wide.

GOODE.

PSALM CXXVIII. 1, 2, 3. S. M.

Communion of saints; or, love and worship in a family.

BLEST are the sons of peace,
Whose hearts and hopes are one;
Whose kind designs, to serve and please,
Thro' all their actions run.

Blest is the pious house

Where zeal and friendship meet;
Their songs of praise; their mingled vows,
Make their communion sweet.

Thus, when on Aaron's head,
They pour'd the rich perfume,
The oil thro' all his raiment spread,
And pleasure fill'd the room.

Thus, on the heav'nly hills,

The saints are blest above.

Where joy like morning dew distills;

And all the air is love.

WATTS.

PSALM CXLIX. 1, 2, 3, 4. P. M.

Praise to God for Salvation.

O PRAISE ye the Lord;

Prepare your glad voice,

His praise in the great
Assembly to sing:
In our great Creator
Let Israel rejoice;
And Children of Zion
Be glad in their King.

Let them His great name
Extol in the dance;
With trimbrel and harp
His praises express,
Who always takes pleasure
His saints to advance,
And with His salvation
The humble to bless.

Gloria Patri.

BRADY & TATE.

By angels in heaven, &c.

HYMNS.

HYMN I. C. M.

The excellency of the Holy Seriptures.

FATHER of mercies! in Thy word
What endless glory shines!

For ever be Thy Name ador'd
For these celestial lines.

Here, the Redeemer's welcome voice
Spreads heav'nly peace around;

And life, and everlasting joys,
Attend the blissful sound.

O may these heav'nly pages be
My ever dear delight;

And still new beauties may I see,
And still increasing light!

Divine Instructor, gracious Lord!
Be Thou for ever near;

Teach me to love Thy sacred word,
And view my Saviour there!

STEELE.

HYMN II. L. M.

AWAKE my

A Morning Hymn.

soul, and with the sun,
Thy daily course of duty run;
Shake off dull sloth, and early rise
To pay thy morning sacrifice.

Glory to God, who safe hath kept,
And hath refresh'd me while I slept;
Grant, Lord, that when from death 1 wake.
I may of endless bliss partake.

Lord, I my vows to Thee renew;

Scatter my sins like morning dew;

Guard my first spring of thought and will:

And with Thyself my spirit fill.

May all my converse be sincere;
My conscience as the noonday clear;
For Thine all-seeing eye surveys,
My secret thoughts, and all my ways.

Direct, control, suggest this day,
All I shall do, or think, or say;

That all my powers, with all their might,
In Thy sole glory may unite.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow, &c.

BP. KEN.

HYMN III. L. M.

An Evening Hymn.

GLORY to Thee, my God, this night,
For all the blessings of the light;
Keep me, O keep me, King of kings,
Under Thine own almighty wings.
Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son,
The ills which I this day have done;
That with the world, myself and Thee,
I ere I sleep, at peace may be.

Teach me to live, that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed;
Teach me to die, that so I may
With joy behold the judgment day.
O may my soul on Thee repose,
And with sweet sleep mine eyelids close,
Sleep that may me more active make
To serve my God when I awake.

O may my soul for ever share
The bliss of Thy paternal care;
T'is heav'n on earth, 'tis heav'n above
To see Thy face and sing Thy love.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow, &c.

BP. KEN.

FOR CHRISTMAS.

HYMN IV. C. M.

The Incarnation. John. i. 14.

AWAKE, awake the sacred song
To our incarnate Lord;

Let ev'ry heart and ev'ry tongue,
Adore th' eternal Word.

That awful Word, that sov'reign Pow'r,
By whom the worlds were made;
(O happy morn! illustrious hour!)
Was once in flesh array'd!

Then shone almighty pow'r and love,
In all their glorious forms:
When Jesus left His throne above
To dwell with sinful worms.

To dwell with misery below,
The Savionr left the skies;
And sunk to wretchedness and woe,
That worthless man may rise.
What glory, Lord, to Thee is due!
With wonder we adore;
But could we sing as angels do,
Our highest praise were poor.

STEEL.

FOR GOOD FRIDAY.

HYMN V. C. M.

The Fountain opened. Zech. xiii. 1.

THERE is a fountain fill'd with blood, Drawn from Immanuel's veins,