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2 How many kindred souls are fled
To swell the millions of the dead,
Through his last yearly course has run! 3 We yet survive; but who can say,
Or through the year, or month, or day,
Thus far at least in league with death? 4 That breath is thine, eternal God!
'Tis thine to fix our soul's abode;
On earth, or in the world unknown. 5 To Thee our spirits we resign;
Make them and own them still as thine;
Though death should blast the rising year. 365
D.7's. Life but a dream.
Ps. xc, 9.
Hasted through the former year,
Never more to meet us here:
They have done with all below;
But how little none can know.
2 As the winged arrow flies
Speedily the mark to find;
Darts, and leaves, no trace behind;
Bear us down life's rapid stream;
All below is but a dream.
Pardon of our sins renew;
With eternity in view:
Fill us with a Saviour's love;
May we dwell with Thee above.
God our Guardian through the year. Gen. xvii, 7. Deut. xi, 12. Josh. iii, 4. 1 Great God! we sing that mighty hand, By which supported still we stand: The op'ning year thy mercy shows;
Let mercy crown it till the close.
Still we are guarded by our God;
3 With grateful hearts the past we own;
The future, all to us unknown,
And peaceful leave before thy feet.
Thou art our joy, and Thou our rest;
Adored through all our changing days. 5 When death shall interrupt these songs,
And seal in silence mortal tongues,
Our theme throughout eternity. 367
A new year's song of praise.
Isa. xlvi, 3, 4.
Let mortal voices sound;
And brings the seasons round.
Our Father and our Friend;
In genial streams descend.
In every age, we see;
So let our praises be.
4[Still may thy love in every scene,
In every age, appear;
To bless the opening year.]
From anxious passions free;
To find our rest in Thee.
Our wand'ring souls to God;
If Thou wilt bless the rod.
God's bounteous Providence.
Gen, viii, 22. Jer. v. 24.
How rich thy bounties are!
Proclaim thy constant care.
The sower hid the grain,
And sent the early rain.
3 The spring's sweet influence, Lord! was thine;
The plants in beauty grew;
And mild refreshing dew.
Matured the swelling grain;
And plenty fills the plain.
Thy hand all nature hails;
Summer nor winter, fails.
L. M. Praise for National deliverance. 2 Sam. xxii, 1-3. Ezra ix, 13, 14. Ps. cxxiv, 1-3. 1 WHILE Britain, favour'd of the skies,
Recalls the wonders God hath wrought,
And warm to rapture every thought.
Their evil plots in ruin lay.
Resumed, avow'd, a fresh design;