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Thine oracles may we receive,
Hymn 45. P. M. PEA EACE, troubl'd breast, whose plaintive moan
Hath taught these rocks the notes of woe: Cease thy complaint, suppress thy groan,
And let thy tears forget to flow :
Unburthen here the weighty load;
Safe in the bosom of thy God. Thy God's thy Saviour-glorious word ! Which sheathes th'avenger's threat'ning sword. As spring the winter, day the night,
Peace sorrow's gloom shall chase away,
Shall lead thy steps; and here then stay,
Let white rob’d innocence descend;
See pature hastes ber wreaths to bring,
Hymn 47. P. M.
For Easter Day. DISE, ye cbristiaus, rise and sing,
• Where, O death! is now thy sting? Where, O grave! thy victory !" Cbrist from both hath set you free.
Sin, the sting of death, no more
Lo! Salem's daughters weep around; A solemn darkness veils the skies,
A sudden trembling shakes the ground. Come saints and drop a tear or two,
For him who groau'd beneath your load ; He shed a thousand drops for you,
A thousand drops of richer blood. Here's love and grief beyond degree,
The Lord of glory dies for men : But lo! what sudden joys we see,
Jesus, the dead revives again.
In vain the tomb forbids his rise ;
Break off your tears, ye saints and tell
How high your great Deliv’rer reigns; Sing how he spoil'd the hosts of bell,
And led the monster, death, in chains.
Say, “Live for ever, wond'rous King,
Born to redeem and strong to save;" Then ask the monster, “Where's thy sting?
And where's thy victory, boasting grave ?"
E blest inhabitants of beav'n,
To God be all your praises giv'n; O praise him from the realms that lie Above the reach of mortal eye : Praise him, ye angels of his train, And all whom heav'n's vast hosts contain.
Praise him thou glorious orb of light,
Ye youthful bands and virgin choir,
Hymn 50. Р. М. O
FOR a bumble and a contrite heart,
To weep o'er hours of folly and of sin ! o for a beam of mercy to impart
One ray of comfort and of peace within ! Cease, cease, proud spirit, dare not to rebel
Against the mandate of a Pow'r divine; Let not one vaip repining murmur tell,
The guilt of folly, insolent as thine. Bow to the justice of a mighty God,
And meekly bend beneath th' avenging hand, Haste thee to kiss the fury of his rod,
Lest ruin whelm thee from his dread command. In all the terrors of thy vengeful bour,
In all thy mercy still remember me; Let others ask for riches, pomp or pow'r,
My God, my God, give me humility.
Hymn 51. C. M.
Where saints and angels reign,
And pleasures bauish pain.
And ever blooming fowers :
This heav’nly land from ours.
The God whom we adore,
And shall be evermore.