4 Blessing and honour, praise and love, In earth below, and heaven above, 447 1 EET and right it is to sing M In every time and place, Glory to our heavenly King, C. WESLEY The God of truth and grace. Join we, then, with sweet accord, All in one thanksgiving join; Holy, holy, holy Lord, Eternal praise be Thine. 2 Thee, the first-born sons of light, Praise the mystic Three in One; Our theme is still the same. 4 Father, God, Thy love we praise, Spirit, Comforter divine, Praise by all to Thee be given, Till we in full chorus join, 448 1 2 3 4 5 Wa Rev. vii. 11, 12. HILE all the angel-throng Give thanks to God on high; Let earth repeat the joyful song, And echo to the sky. Father, in whom we live, In whom we are and move; The glory, power, and praise receive Incarnate Deity, Let all the ransom'd race Render in thanks their lives to Thee, For Thy redeeming grace. Thy sacred energy, and bless Eternal, glorious Lord, Let all the sons of men record, 449 1 Peter i. 2. L. M. S. M. WATTS. 1B To whose celestial source we owe LESS'D be the Father and His love, Rivers of endless joys above, And rills of comfort here below. 2 Glory to Thee, great Son of God, 3 We give Thee, sacred Spirit, praise, 4 Thus God the Father, God the Son, 450 1 G 2 Cor. xiii. 14. 7's. OD the Father, with us be, LUTHER Shield us, Thou, from danger nigh; 2 God the Saviour, with us be, Shield us, Thou, from danger nigh; 3 God the Spirit, with us be, Shield us, Thou, from danger nigh; 4 Keep us in the heavenly faith, Thine in life, and Thine in death, 451 1 NOW Rev. vii. 12. 6 7's. CONDER OW with angels round the throne, And the church which still is one, 2 Blessing, honour, glory, might, To the Father of our Lord, 452 1 Col. i. 12-20. PRAISE the God of all creation : Praise the Father's boundless love; Praise the Lamb, our expiation, Priest and King enthron'd above; Praise the Fountain of Salvation, Him by whom our spirits live: Undivided adoration To the One Jehovah give. 8.7. HYMNS CONCERNING MAN. HIS SPIRITUAL AND IMMORTAL NATURE. 453 Gen. il. 7. C. M. SIR J. E. SMITH. ADORE, my soul, that awful Name, To which the angels bow, 2 The God who sits enthron'd above 3 This speck of earth is not thy home, 4 Why fondly pluck the withering flowers While amaranthine wreaths and bowers For thee immortal bloom? Resign thy joys and hopes to God; Cast flesh and sin away; Pursue the path thy Saviour trod, |