346.

Jesus the Shepherd.-T. WALKER.

THE

Green Pasture 267. (30th.)

HE Lord my Shepherd is, he makes me lie

'Mong cooling shades, the peaceful waters nigh;

He, with his rod, and crook, and watchful eye, Recalls my wand'ring steps, my wants supply:

Tho' I walk thro' death's shade, where terrors

are,

I'll fear no ill, my Shepherd's with me there.

347.

Holy Unity.-T. WALKER.
Friendship 284. (58th.)

HOW good and how pleasant when breth

ren agree,

Bound closely together in firm unity;
How sweet, how delightful, when Christ is
their theme,

His love-above all else is supreme:
Sweet, sweet, how sweet thus to sing,
In harmony, pure harmony, the praise of our
King.

Prayer for Unity.-T. WALKER.

PART I.

348. Dedication 282. (For Singing Societies.) (57th.)

1

HE

EAV'NLY Instructor, with thy smiles
befriend us,

While to thy name we dedicate our lays;
In love and mercy, from all ill defend us,
When we to heav'n, our cheerful anthems
raise.

Thus then combining, hearts with voices

joining,

Sing we, in harmony, Immanuel's praise. 2 Here, ev'ry gen'rous sentiment awaking, Our songs inspiring purity and joy;

Pure social pleasure, giving and partaking,
In richest measure, our hours employ;
Thus then combining, hearts with voices
joining,

Long may continue our unity and joy.

Miriam's Song; or, the Destruction of Pharaoh and his Host in the Red Sea.-Moore.

Jehovah has triumph'd, his people are free! Sing, for the pride of the tyrant is broken, His chariot, his horsemen, all splendid and brave;

How vain was their boasting! the Lord has but spoken,

And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave!

Cho. Sound the loud timbrel, &c.

2 Praise to the Conqueror; O praise to the Lord;

His word was our arrow, his breath was our sword!

Who shall return to tell Egypt the story Of those she sent forth in the hour of her

pride?

For the Lord hath looked out from his

pillar of glory,

And all her brave thousands are dashed in

the tide!

Cho. Sound the loud timbrel, &c.

The Negro is free. August 1st. 1834.

348.

1

MONTGOMERY.

PART III.

Gethsemane Chorus 366.

BLOW ye the trumpet abroad in the sea, Britannia hath triumph'd! the Negro is free!

Sing, for the pride of the tyrant is broken; His scourges and fetters, all clotted with blood,

Are wrenched from his grasp;-for the word was but spoken,

And fetters and scourges are sunk in the flood.

Cho. Blow ye the trumpet abroad, &c. 2 Hail to Britannia-fair liberty's isle! Her frown quelled the tyrant, the slave caught the smile:

Fly on the winds to tell Afric the story, And say to the mother of mourners, "Rejoice!"

Britannia went forth in her beauty,-her glory,

And slaves sprang to men at the sound of her voice!

Praise to the God of our fathers!-'twas heJEHOVAH, that triumphed,-my country, by THEE!

349.

On the Love of God.-ANONYMOUS,

PART I.

Mottingham 44. Leach 290.

1 COULD oceans, rivers, springs, and lakes,

All that the name of water takes,
Beneath th' expanded sky,

Be turn'd to ink of blackest hue,
Add ev'ry drop of falling dew,
To make the wonder rise:

2 A book so large could we suppose,
Which thinnest paper could compose,
As the whole earthly ball;
Were every shrub and every tree,
And every blade of grass we see,
A pen to write withal:

3 Were all that ever liv'd on earth,
Since nature first receiv'd her birth,
Most skilful scribes, to place
In clearest light, that wondrous love,
Found in the heart of God above,

Towards Adam's ruin'd race:
4 Were each Methuselah an age,
And every moment wrote a page
They'd all be tir'd and die;
pens would every one wear out,
The book be fill'd within-without,
The ink be drain'd all dry:

The

5 And then, to show that love, O then!
Angels above, as well as men,
Archangels e'en would fail;

Nay-'till eternity should end,
A whole eternity they'd spend,
And not have told the tale.

349.

1

The fettered Mind.-MRS. STEele.

AH

PART II.

Love Divine 42. Mount Zion 43.

H! why should this immortal mind,
Enslav'd by sense, be thus confin'd,
And never, never rise?

Why thus amus'd with empty toys,
And sooth'd with visionary joys,
Forget her native skies?

2 The mind was form'd to mount sublime,
Beyond the narrow bounds of time,
To everlasting things;

But earthly vapours cloud her sight,
And hang with cold oppressive weight
Upon her drooping wings.

3 The world employs its various snares,
Of hopes and pleasures, pains and cares,
And chain'd to earth I lie :
When shall my fetter'd powers be free,
And leave these seats of vanity,
And upward learn to fly?

4 Bright scenes of bliss, unclouded skies,
Invite my soul: O could I rise,
Nor leave a thought below:
I'd bid farewell to anxious care,
And say to every tempting snare,
Heaven calls, and I must go!

5 Heaven calls-and can I yet delay?
Can ought on earth engage my stay?
Ah, wretched, lingering heart!
Come, Lord, with strength, and life, and light,
Assist and guide my upward flight,
And bid the world depart.