2 I love thy Church, O God! 3 For her my tears shall fall; 4 Beyond my highest joy I prize her heavenly ways; Her sweet communion, solemn vows, 5 Sure as thy truth shall last, The brightest glories earth can yield, 238 9th P. M. 87, 87, 87, 87. HEAR God her everlasting light. [EAR what God the Lord hath spoken: Comfortless, afflicted, broken, Shall no more perplex your ways; God shall rise, and, shining o'er you, THE SABBATH. 239 1st P. M. 6 lines 8s. The day consecrated. REAT God, this hallow'd day of thine G Demands our souls' collected powers; May we employ in works divine These solemn and devoted hours: Doth every secret thought explore: 240 The day improved. C. M. HIS day the Lord hath call'd his own; Fix our desires on him alone, 2 Lord, in thy love we would rejoice, 3 Now let the world's delusive things 4 0 let these earthly Sabbaths, Lord, 241 The joys of the Sabbath. L. M. WEET is the work, my God, my King, S To praise thy name, give thanks, and sing; To show thy love by morning light, 2 Sweet is the day of sacred rest; 4 Then shall I see, and hear, and know And every hour find sweet employ 242 Delight in ordinances. WELCOME, sweet day of rest, That saw the Lord arise: S. M. Welcome to this reviving breast, 3 One day in such a place, 4 My willing soul would stay In such a frame as this, And sit and sing herself away 243 FAR In the Sanctuary. L. M. AR from my thoughts, vain world, begone, Fain would mine eyes my Saviour see; 20 warm my heart with holy fire, C. M. THIS is the day the Lord hath made: Let songs of triumph hail the morn; 2 The Stone the builders set at naught, The sure foundation, and the strength 3 Christ is that stone, rejected once, Now raised in glory, o'er his Church 4 This is the day the Lord hath made; With songs of triumph hail the morn; 245 3d P. M. 4 6s & 2 8s. Joyful homage. WAKE, ye saints, awake! Your joyful homage pay: Come bless the day that God hath blest, The type of heaven's eternal rest. 2 On this auspicious morn And vanquish'd all our foes; And now he pleads our cause above, 3 All hail, triumphant Lord! Worthy the Lamb, that once was slain, 246 C. M. The type of everlasting rest. YOME, let us join with one accord In hymns around the throne; This is the day our rising Lord Hath made and call'd his own. 2 This is the day which God hath blest, The brightest of the seven, Type of that everlasting rest The saints enjoy in heaven. 3 Then let us in his name sing on, And hasten to that day When our Redeemer shall come down, And shadows pass away. |