FOR THE NEW YEAR.

505. P. M. DODDRIDGE.
For New Year's day.

1 HOUSE of our GoD, with cheerful an

thems ring,

While all our lips and hearts his graces

sing;

The op'ning year his bounties shall pro

claim,

And all its days be vocal with his name. The LORD is good, his mercy never-ending, His blessings in perpetual show'rs descend

ing.

2 Thou earth, enlighten'd by his rays divine, Pregnant with grass and corn and oil and

wine;

Crown'd with his goodness, let thy nations

meet,

And lay their crowns at his paternal feet; With grateful love, that lib'ral hand confess

ing,

Which thro' each heart diffuseth ev'ry b

ing.

bless

3 His mercy never ends; the dawn, the shade, Still see new beauties thro' new scenes display'd;

Succeeding ages bless this sure abode,

And children lean upon

their fathers' GOD.

The soul of man, thro' its immense duration, Drinks from this source, immortal consolation. 4 Burst into praise, my soul! all nature, join; Angels and men, in harmony combine : While human years are measur'd by the sun, And while eternity its course shall run, His goodness in perpetual show'rs descending, Exalt in songs and raptures never-ending.

506. L. M. DODDRIDGE.

The possibility of dying this year. 1 GOD of our lives! thy constant care With blessings crowns each op'ning year; These lives, so frail, dost thou prolong, And wake anew our annual song.

2 How many precious souls are fled
To the dark regions of the dead,
Since, from this day, the changing sun
Through his last yearly course has run !
3 We yet survive; but who can say,
Or through the year, or month, or day,
I shall retain my vital breath,

Thus far at least in league with death?
4 That breath is thine, Eternal GOD!
Thine to determine our abode ;
We hold

Our lives from thec alone,
On earth or in the world unknown.

5 To thee we all our pow'rs resign; Make us and own us still as thine;

Then shall we smile, secure from fear,
Though death should blast the rising year.
6 Thy children, eager to be gone,
Bid time's impetuous tide roll on,
And land them on that blooming shore,
Where years and death are known no more.

507. L. M. JOHN TAYLOR.

Sun! stand thou still.

1 WHEN Isr'el's tribes on Gibeon pour'd, The son of Nun unsheath'd his sword; He bade the sun retard his way, And lengthen the victorious day. 2 Thus when tumultuous passions rise, And fame, or pleasure, lures our eyes, Or, bent on virtue's path sublime,We chide the swift-wing'd foot of time: 3 In vain we war with nature's force; Time's rapid car pursues its course; Nor virtue's, nor ambition's pow'r Can stop the swiftly-moving hour. 4 The gay and great, the good and just Alike are journeying to the dust: Then haste, the race of virtue run, Nor blame the quick revolving sun. 5 Bright orb, roll on o'er heav'n's wide face; Why should our wishes check thy pace! Why should we grudge the passing

hour

6 Days, months and years, your rounds fulfil;
Witness our virtuous efforts still:
Nor let one vagrant day pass by,
Unbless'd by reason's victory.

508. L. M. JOHN TAYLOR.

And all the days of Methuselah were nine hundred, sixty and nine years, and he died. 1 LIKE shadows gliding o'er the plain, Or clouds that roll successive on, Man's busy generations pass;

And while we gaze, their forms are gone. 2 Vain was the boast of lengthen'd years; The patriarch's full maturity;

'Twas but a larger drop to swell
The ocean of eternity.

3 "He liv'd, he died;" behold the sum,
The abstract of th' historian's page!
Alike, in GoD's all-seeing eye,
The infant's day, the patriarch's age.
4 O Father! in whose mighty hand,

The boundless years and ages lie e;
Teach us thy boon of life to prize,
And use the moments as they fly;
5 To crowd the narrow span of life
With wise designs and virtuous deeds:
So shall we wake from death's dark night,
To share the glory that succeeds.

509. L. M. DODDRIDGE.
GOD our helper.

F

1 MY Helper GOD! I bless his name; the same: The same his pow'r, his grace The tokens of his friendly care Open, and crown, and close the year. 2 I 'midst ten thousand dangers stand, Supported by his guardian hand; And see, when I survey my ways, Ten thousand monuments of praise. 3 Thus far his arm hath led me on; Thus far I make his mercy known; And, while I tread this desert land, New blessings shall new songs 4 My grateful soul, on Jordan's shore, Shall raise one sacred pillar more: And bear, in his bright courts above, Inscriptions of immortal love.

510. L. M. DODDRIDGE.

Help obtained of GOD.

demand.

1 GREAT GOD! we sing that mighty hand By which supported, still we stand: The op'ning year thy mercy shows; That mercy crowns it till it close. 2 By day, by night, at home, abroad, Still we are guarded by our GOD;