No. 230.

Bealoth. S. M. D.

1. I love Thy king-dom, Lord, The house of Thine a - bode, 2. If e'er to bless her sons, My voice or hands de ny, 3. Be-yond the high-est joy I prize her heav'n-ly ways,

The Church our blest Re-deem-er bought With His own precious blood. These hands let useful skili for-sake, This voice in

silence die. Her sweet communion, solemn vows, Her hymns of love and praise.

my tears shall fall; Sure as Thy truth shall last,

I love Thy Church, O God! Her walls before Thee stand,

For her

For her

To Zi

my pray'rs as cend; on shall be giv'n

26

Dear as the ap-ple of Thine eye, And gra-ven on Thy hand.
To her my cares and toils be giv'n, Till toils and cares shall end.
The brightest sto-ries earth can yield, The brighter bliss of heav'n.

236

No. 231.

H. STOWELL.

Retreat. L. M.

THOS. HASTINGS.

1. From ev'ry storm-y wind that blows, From ev-'ry swelling tide of woes, 2. There is a place where Je-sus sheds The oil of glad-ness on our heads3. There is a scene where spir-its blend, Where friend holds fellowship with friend; 4. There, there, on ea-gle wings we soar, And sense and sin molest no more; 5. O let my hand for-get her skill, My tongue be silent, cold, and still,

9:0

4

ritard.

There is a calm, a sure re-treat; 'Tis found be-neath the mercy-seat. A place than all besides more sweet; It is the blood-bo't mercy-seat. Tho' sunder'd far, by faith they meet A- round one com - mon mercy-seat. And heav'n comes down our souls to greet, And glory crowns the mercy-seat. This bound-ing heart for-get to beat, Ere I for-get the mercy-seat.

No. 232.

Ortonville. C. M.

Dr. THOMAS HASTINGS.

1. How sweet the name of Je-sus sounds In a believer's ear! It It makes the wounded spirit whole, And calms the troubled breast;'Tis 3. By Him my pray'rs acceptance gain, Al- tho' with sin de-filed; Sa

2.

b3 6-4

soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds, And drives a-way his fear, And drives a- way his fear. manna to the hungry soul, And to the weary rest, And to the weary rest. tan ac-cuses me in vain. And I am owned a child, And I am owned a child.

1. By cool Si - lo-am's sha - dy rill How fair the lil - y grows! 2. Lo! such the child whose ear-ly feet The paths of peace have trod 3. By cool Si - lo-am's sha - dy rill The lil y must decay; 4. And soon, too soon, the wintry hour Of man's ma

tur

er age

No. 235.

Missionary bymn. 7s & 6s, D.

REGINALD HEBER, 1819.

LOWELL MASON, 1824.

4

1. From Greenland's icy mountains, From India's cor- al strand,
2. What, tho' the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Cey-lon's isle,
3. Shall we, whose souls are light-ed With wis-dom from on high,
4. Waft, waft, ye winds, His sto ry, And you, ye waters, roll,

Where Afric's sun ny fountains Roll down their gold- en sand, Though ev 'ry pros-pect pleases, And ou ly man is vile; Shall we, to men be-night-ed, The lamp of life de- ny? Till, like а sea of glo

ry, It spreads from pole to pole;

From many an ancient riv
vain, with lav - ish

In

Sal

er, From man-y a palm-y plain, kind-ness, The gifts of God are strown; va tion! The joyful sound pro- claim, Till o'er our ransomed na - ture, The Lamb for sin-ners slain,

vation! O

sal

They call

us to de liv er Their land from error's chain. The heath-en, in his blind-ness, Bows down to wood and stone. Till earth's re- mot-est na- tion Has learned Mes-si- ah's name. Redeem-er, King, Cre tor, In bliss re- turns to reign.

Main-tain the honors of His word, The glo- ry of His cross.
Nor will He put my soul to shame, Nor let my hope be lost.
What I've com-mit- ted to His hands, Till the de- ci sive hour.
And in the new Je rusalem Ap-point for me a place.

No. 237.

Brown. C. M.

WM. B. BRADBURY.

1. How sweet, how heav'nly is the sight, When those that love the Lord, 2. When each can feel his brother's sigh, And with him bear a part; 3. When, free from en- vy, scorn, and pride, Our wish-es all

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a-bove,