280

692.

Tune.-AMERICA, page 187.

"The God of harvest praise."
1 THE God of harvest praise;
In loud thanksgiving raise
Hand, heart, and voice!
The valleys laugh and sing;
Forests and mountains ring;
The plains their tribute bring;
The streams rejoice.

2 Yea, bless his holy name,
And joyous thanks proclaim
Through all the earth;
To glory in your lot
Is comely; but be not
God's benefits forgot
Amid your mirth.

3 The God of harvest praise, Hands, hearts, and voices raise With sweet accord;

From field to garner throng,
Bearing your sheaves along,
And in your harvest song
Bless ye the Lord.

How art thou pale with anguish,
With sore abuse and scorn;
How does that visage languish
Which once was bright as morn
3 What language shall I borrow
To thank thee, dearest Friend,
For this thy dying sorrow,

Thy pity without end?
O make me thine for ever;
And should I fainting be,,
Lord, let me never, never
Outlive my love to thee.

4 Be near when I am dying;
Oh show thy cross to me,
And for my succor flying,

Come, Lord, to set me free.
These eyes new faith receiving,
From Jesus shall not move;
For he who dies believing,
Dies safely, through thy love.

695.

"The night is far spent, the day is at hand.” 1 THE night is wearing fast away, The glorious day is dawning; When Christ shall all his grace display, The fair millennial morning.

2 Lift up your heads: behold from far
A flood of splendor streaming.

It is the bright and Morning Star,
In living lustre beaming.

3 He comes! the bridegroom promis'd long
Go forth with joy to meet him,
And raise the new and nuptial song,
Jr cheerful strains to greet him.

4 Adorn thyself, the feast prepare,
In hallelujahs swelling;

He comes with thee all joy to share,
In his eternal dwelling.

596.

Tune -HEBRON, page 30.

We are but Young.

We are but young-yet we may sing
The praises of our heavenly King;
He made the earth, the sea. the sky,
And all the starry worlds on high.

2 We are but young-yet we must die;
Perhaps our latter end is nigh:
Lord, may we early seek thy grace,
And find in Christ a hiding place.

3 We are but young-we need a guide;
Jesus, in thee we would confide;
O lead us in the path of truth,
Protect and bless us,-helpless youth.

4 We are but young-yet God has shed
Unnumbered blessings on our head;
Then let our youth and riper days
Be all devoted to his praise.

1 WHEN children give their hearts to God, "T is pleasing in his eyes;

A flower, when offered in the bud,
Is no vain sacrifice.

2 It saves us from unnumbered snares
To mind religion young;

Grace will preserve our following years,
And make our virtue strong.

3 To thee, Almighty God, to thee
Our childhood we resign;

"T will please us to look back and see
Life's morning all was thine!

Let the sweet work of prayer and praise
Employ our youngest breath;
Thus we're prepared for longer days,
Or fit for early death.

281

And guard me with thy watchful eye, And let me rove no more.

700.

Tune.-WATCHMAN, page 153.

Infant School Hymn.

1 JESUS, see a little child

Humbly at thy footstool stay; Thou who art so meek and mild Stoop, and teach me what to say.

2 Though thou art so great and high,
Thou dost view with smiling face
Little children when they cry,
"Saviour! guide us by thy grace.

3 Show me what I ought to be,
Make me every evil shun;
Thee in all things may I see,
In thy holy footsteps run.

4 Jesus! all my sins forgive,
Make me lowly, pure in heart,
For thy glory may I live,

Then be with thee where thou art

1 Holy Bible! book divine!

Precious treasure! thou art mine!
Mine to tell me whence I came;
Mine to teach me what I am;

2 Mine to chide me when I rove;
Mine to show a Father's love;
Mine to guide my doubtful feet;
Mine to judge, condemn, acquit;

3 Mine to comfort in distress;
Mine to cheer, sustain, and bless;
Mine to show by living faith
Man can triumph over death;

4 Mine to tell of joys to come;
Mine to lead the spirit home :
O thou precious book divine!
Holy Bible! thou art mine.

2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear, Invade thy bounds: no mortal woes Can reach the peaceful sleeper here, While angels watch the soft repose. 3 So Jesus slept;-God's dying Son

[bed: Pass'd through the grave, and blest the Rest here, blest saint, till from his throne The morning break, and pierce the shade.

1 Break from his throne, illustrious morn! Attend, O earth! his sovereign word: Restore thy trust: a glorious form

Shall then ascend to meet the Lord!

How slender all the fondest ties, That bind us to a world like this!

2 The evening cloud, the morning dew,
The withering grass, the fading flower,
Of earthly hopes are emblems true-
The glory of a passing hour!

3 But though earth's fairest blossoms die, And all beneath the skies is vain, There is a land, whose confines lie Beyond the reach of care and pain.

4 Then let the hope of joys to come

Dispel our cares, and chase our fears: If God be ours, we're traveling home, Though passing through a vale of tears.