Thine oracles may we receive,
That to thy glory we may live :
O let us from the heart obey
Those gracious precepts they convey.

Hymn 45. P. M. PEA EACE, troubl'd breast, whose plaintive moan

Hath taught these rocks the notes of woe: Cease thy complaint, suppress thy groan,

And let thy tears forget to flow :
Behold the precious balm is found,
Which lulls the pain, which heals the wound.
Come, freely come, by sin opprest,

Unburthen here the weighty load;
Here find thy réfuge and thy rest,

Safe in the bosom of thy God. Thy God's thy Saviour-glorious word ! Which sheathes th'avenger's threat'ning sword. As spring the winter, day the night,

Peace sorrow's gloom shall chase away,
And smiling say, "A seraph bright

Shall lead thy steps; and here then stay,
While glory weaves th' immortal crown,
And waits to claimi thee for her own."

Hymn 46.

L. M.
For Christmas Day.

Let white rob’d innocence descend;
Fly swift ye years, and hail the morn,
Ospring to light, bless'd Babe be born!

See pature hastes ber wreaths to bring,
With all the incense of the spring;
Hark! a glad voice the desert cheers,
“Prepare the way, a God appears."
« A God! a God!" the groves reply:
The rocks proclaim a Deity;
Lo! earth receives him from the skies,
Bow down ye hills, ye vallies rise.
A Saviour comes, by seers foretold,
Hear him, ye deaf; ye blind behold;
The lame shall leap, the dumb shall sing,
And hail the coming of their King.
No sigh, no‘groan the world shall hear,
From ev'ry face he wipes the tear ;
Death shall in iron chains be bound,
And bell's grim tyrant feel the wound.
Arise, imperial Salem, rise,
Exalt thine head and lift tbine eyes ;
His word is fix'd, his power remains,
Thy realm still lasts, Messiah reigns,

CHORUS.
Praise God, from wliom all blessings flow;
Praise him all creatures here below;
Praise him above, ye heav'nly host
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Hymn 47. P. M.

For Easter Day. DISE, ye cbristiaus, rise and sing,

• Where, O death! is now thy sting? Where, O grave! thy victory !" Cbrist from both hath set you free.

Sin, the sting of death, no more
Dares to dart its wonted pow'r;
Christ, the first fruits of the grave,
Rises now your souls to save.
Nature's curse and Adam's doom,
Now he's buried in the tomb;
While with healing in bis wings,
From that tomb Messialı springs.
Rise, ye christians, rise and sing
Praise to your triumphant King,
Who to all of human race,
Opens wide the gates of grace.

Hymn 48.

L. M.
For Easter.
E dies, the Friend of Sinners dies,

Lo! Salem's daughters weep around; A solemn darkness veils the skies,

A sudden trembling shakes the ground. Come saints and drop a tear or two,

For him who groau'd beneath your load ; He shed a thousand drops for you,

A thousand drops of richer blood. Here's love and grief beyond degree,

The Lord of glory dies for men : But lo! what sudden joys we see,

Jesus, the dead revives again.
The rising God forsakes the tomb,

In vain the tomb forbids his rise ;
Cherubic legions guard him home,
And shout him welcome to the skies.

Break off your tears, ye saints and tell

How high your great Deliv’rer reigns; Sing how he spoil'd the hosts of bell,

And led the monster, death, in chains.

Say, “Live for ever, wond'rous King,

Born to redeem and strong to save;" Then ask the monster, “Where's thy sting?

And where's thy victory, boasting grave ?"

Y

E blest inhabitants of beav'n,

To God be all your praises giv'n; O praise him from the realms that lie Above the reach of mortal eye : Praise him, ye angels of his train, And all whom heav'n's vast hosts contain.

Praise him thou glorious orb of light,
And thou, pale ruler of the night;
Praise him ye stars, bis praise repeat,
Thou heav'n of heav’ns, his awful seat;
And you, ye floods, that heap'd on high,
Press with your weight th' extended sky.

Ye youthful bands and virgin choir,
Each lisping babe and hoary sire,
Wake to bis name your grateful songs,
To him alone all praise belongs ;
His glory earth's wide bounds o'erflows,
Nor highest heav'n its limit knows.

Hymn 50. Р. М. O

FOR a bumble and a contrite heart,

To weep o'er hours of folly and of sin ! o for a beam of mercy to impart

One ray of comfort and of peace within ! Cease, cease, proud spirit, dare not to rebel

Against the mandate of a Pow'r divine; Let not one vaip repining murmur tell,

The guilt of folly, insolent as thine. Bow to the justice of a mighty God,

And meekly bend beneath th' avenging hand, Haste thee to kiss the fury of his rod,

Lest ruin whelm thee from his dread command. In all the terrors of thy vengeful bour,

In all thy mercy still remember me; Let others ask for riches, pomp or pow'r,

My God, my God, give me humility.

Hymn 51. C. M.
THERE is a land of pure delight,

Where saints and angels reign,
Infinite day excludes the night,

And pleasures bauish pain.
There everlastiug spring abides,

And ever blooming fowers :
Death, like a narrow sea, divides

This heav’nly land from ours.
To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

The God whom we adore,
Be glory, as it was, is now,

And shall be evermore.