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God of the morning! at whose voice
Oh ! like the sun, may we fulfil
LORD! thy commands are right and pure,
Be thou, O GOD! our guide and strength
THE TRUE WAY TO FLEASE GOD.
Wherewith shall we approach thee, LORD!
And bow before thy throne ? Or, how procure thy kind regard,
And for our guilt atone ?
Shall altars flame, and victims bleed,
And spicy fumes ascend?
And make our GOD our friend ?
Oh! no, great GOD! 'twere fruitless all,
Such off’rings are in vain :
Thy favour can obtain.
To men their rights we must allow,
And proofs of kindness give ;
And to thy glory live.
Hands that are clean, and hearts sincere,
Our God will ne'er despise ;' And cheerful duty will prefer
To costly sacrifice.
If solid happiness we prize,
And they are fools who roam :
Our bliss begins at home.
To be resign'd, when ills betide,
And pleas'd with favours giv'n :
Whose fragrance reaches heav'n.
Thus thro' life's changing scenes we 'll go, Its chequer'd paths of joy and woe
With cautious steps we'll tread ; Quit its vain scenes without a tear, Without a trouble or a fear,
And mingle with the dead :
While conscience, like a faithful friend,
And cheer our dying breath ;
And smooth the bed of death.
Thus saith the LORD, “The spacious fields,
“ And flocks and berds are mine ; « O'er all the cattle of the hills
“ I claim a right divine.
“ I ask no sheep for sacrifice,
« Nor bullocks burnt with fire ; “ To hope and love, to pray and praise,
“ Is all that I require.
“Call upon me when trouble's near,
My hand shall set thee free ; “ Then shall thy grateful lips declare
" The honour due to me.
“ The man who offers humble praise,
“ He glorifies me best; “ And those who tread my holy ways
“ Shall my salvation taste."
INVITATIONS OF MERCY.
Come! said Jesus' sacred voice,
Thou, who houseless, sole, forlorn, Long hast borne the proud world's scorn, Long hast roam'd the barren waste, Weary pilgrim, hither haste !
Ye who, tost on beds of pain,
Ye, by fiercer anguish torn,
Sinner, come! for here is found