« AnteriorContinuar »
And ev'ry deep and heart-felt groan
Is wafted to thine ear.
Thy potent arm can save
And the devouring grave.
The ruthless hand of pain
The help of man is vain. 6 "Tis thou, great God! alone canst check
The progress of disease;
The high command obeys.
And ev'ry bliss we feel !
Our grateful hearts appeal.
167. C. M. TATE & BRADY. Encouragement from the experience of God's
goodness. 1 THRO' all the changing scenes of life,
In trouble and in joy,
My heart and tongue employ. 2 Of his deliv’rance I will boast,
Till all who are distrest
From my example comfort take,
And charm their griefs to rest. 3 The hosts of God encamp
around The dwellings of the just; Protection he affords to all
Who make his name their trust. 4 0 make but trial of his love!
Experience will decide, How blest are they, and only they,
Who in his truth confide. 5 Fear him, ye just, and you will then
Have nothing else to fear: Make you
his service your delight; Your wants shall be his care.
168. S. M. MRS STEELE. Obligation to gratitude and praise. 1 MY Maker, and my King!
To thee my all I owe:
From whence my blessings flow. 2 Thou ever good and kind !
A thousand reasons move,
My heart to grateful love 3 The creature of thy hand,
On thee alone I live :
More praise than tongue can give. 4 O what can I impart,
When all was thine before ? Thy love demands a thankful heart;
The gift, alas ! how poor! 5 Shall I withhold thy due ?
And shall my passions rove ? LORD ! make me to thy service true,
And fill me with thy love.
6 O let thy grace inspire
My soul with strength divine;
And all my days be thine.
169. L. M. WATTS.
And loads our days with rich supplies.
To cheer the fruits, to warm the ground:
Refresh the thirsty earth again.
And all our near escapes from death:
He helps the weak, he guards the strong. 4 He makes the saint and sinner prove
The common blessings of his love;
170. C. M. FLEXMAN.
God our constant benefactor.
My fervent thanks shall raise :
Which celebrates thy praise.
2 From thy almighty forming hand
I drew my vital pow'rs;
In all its circling hours.
From ev'ry ill defends;
My help from thee descends.
How sweet is my repose!
From whence my comfort flows. 5 In celebration of thy praise,
I will employ my breath :
Will triumph over death.
171. L. M. DODDRIDGE. God the author of our comforts, our deliver
ances, and our hopes. 1 GREAT Source of life ! our souls confess
The various riches of thy grace;
And in thy praise exalt our voice. 2 By thee, the vault of heav'n was spread;
By thee, the earth's foundations laid ;