CCXLIV. PSALM CXLV. L. M. WATTS.

M's

The Goodness of God.

I Y God, my King, thy various praise Shall fill the remnant of my days; On earth employ my humbler tongue, Till future glory raise the song.

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The wings of every morn fhall bear
My grateful tribute to thy ear;
And every setting fun renew

The thanks which to my God are due.

Thy goodness be my pleafing theme;
How full it flows, an endless ftream;
Thy mercy fwift, thy anger flow,
But dreadful to the ftubborn foe.

'Let diftant times and nations raise
The long fucceffion of thy praise;
And unborn ages make my fong
The joy and glory of their tongue.

But who can speak thy wondrous deeds? Thy love our utmoft thought exceeds; Vaft and unfearchable thy ways,

Vaft and eternal be thy praife.

CCXLV. PSALM CXLV. C. M. WATTS.

The fame.

WEET is the memory of thy grace,

SWE

My God, my heavenly King,

Let age to age thy righteoufnefs

In founds of glory fing.

2 God reigns on high, but not confines His goodness to the skies;

Thro' the whole earth his bounty fhines, And every want fupplies.

3 Their fuppliant eye thy creatures raise To thee for daily food

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Thy hand the wifhed for food conveys,
And all is bleft with good.

4 How kind are thy compaffiops, Lord!
How flow thine anger moves!
How swiftly flies thy pardoning word
To cheer the foul it loves.

5 All nature thro' its boundless space
Utters a grateful voice;

But faints, who tafte thy richer grace,
In highest strains rejoice.

CCXLVI. PSALM CXLVI. L. M. MERRICK.

BW

Truft in Providence.

LEST, who their help in God alone, Whose goodness thro' his world is known, Repofe, and to the hand divine

In each diftrefs their care refign.

2. That hand that formed the heavens and earth,
Summoned the watery deep to birth,
With all that in the ample round
Of nature's wide extent is found.

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'Tis his, the injured cause to right, To crush the arm of lawless might,

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With hope the mourner to fuftain,
And loofe the wretched captive's chain.

The blind to guide, the weak uprear,
And to the fouls, which own his fear,
His mercies each revolving day
In endless feries to difplay.

'Tis his, the orphan heart to cheer,
To wipe the lonely parent's tear;
In every woe, in every pain,
Who feek their God, feek not in vain.
Ye virtuous in your God confide,
Though vice infult, and fcorn deride;
O'er fubject worlds his wife command
Extends, and mercy guides his hand.

CCXLVII. PSALM CXLVI. C. M. SQWDEN.

Praise on Earth, and hope of nobler Praise in Heaven.

IND

NDULGENT Father, how divine,
How dear thy bleffings are!

Thro' nature's ample round they fhine,
Thy goodness to declare.

2 But in the nobler work of grace,
What lovelier mercy fmiles,
In my benign Redeemer's face,
And every fear beguiles.

3 Such goodness, Lord, while I survey,
To thee my thanks shall rise,

When morning ushers in the day,
Or evening veils the skies.

4 When glimmering life refigns its flame,
Thy praise fhall tune my breath;

The

The fweet remembrance of thy name
Shall cheer the gloom of death.
5 Then, what a nobler song shall rise,
When freed from feeble clay,
Thy brightest glories meet my eyes,
In one eternal day!

6 Not feraphs, who thy love proclaim
Thro' yon etherial plains,
Shall glow with a fincerer flame,
Or praife in purer strains.

CCXLVIII. PSALM CXLVII. Long Met. In the beauteous Creation of GOD, no Object of his Love but his own moral Likeness.

Α A

I Pproach, ye virtuous, raise
your fongs,
The nobleft praise to you belongs;
Lovely the path which you have trod,
And you alone are dear to God.

2 On earth below, or heaven on high,
Whate'er of wonder meets your eye,
Whate'er of wisdom, goodness, power,
Proclaims the God whom you adore.

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Benignly o'er his world he ftood; He looked, and bleffed, for all was good; Yet good though all, and all approved, But one was worthy to be loved.

Material forms, however fair,

No fenfe of God their Maker bear,
No law they know, no rule obey,
Nor love with grateful love repay.
The mind, with ftamp divine impreft,
In all thy glorious likeness drest,

Which every form of good purfues,

Thy mind, O God, delighted views.

CCXLIX. PSALM CXLVII. L. M. STEELE.

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Praife to GOD for the Seafons of the Year.

Raife ye the Lord: how rich the theme!
How well does praise each heart befeem!
No act can yield fuch pure delight,
And praise is lovely in his fight.

He speaks, and swiftly from the skies
To earth the fovereign mandate flies;
Obfervant nature hears his word,
And bows obedient to its Lord.

Now thick descending flakes of snow
O'er earth a fleecy mantle throw
Now fhining ice, o'er all the plains,
Extends its univerfal chains.

At his fierce ftorms of pattering hail,
The fhivering powers of nature fail;
Before his cold, what life can stand,
Unfheltered by his guardian hand?

He speaks: the ice and fnow obey,
And nature's fetters melt away;
Now vernal gales mild-tempered blow,
And murmuring waters gently flow.

But nobler works his grace record,
To heal our woes he fent his word;
No thunders from his mount he hurled,
But truth and love to blefs our world.