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C. M.

VIII.

ST. ANN's.
O THOU, to whom all creatures bow

Within this earthly frame,
Throughout the world how great art thou !

How glorious is thy name!
When heaven, thy beauteous work on high,

Employs my wond'ring sight;
The moon, that nightly rules the sky,

With stars of feeble light :
Lord, what is man, that thou should'st love

To keep him in thy mind?
Or son of man,

that thou should'st prove
To him so wondrous kind ?
O thou, to whom all creatures bow

Within this earthly frame;
Through all the world how great art thou !

How glorious is thy name!

C. M.

IX.

CAMBRIDGE NEW.
TO) celebrate thy praises, Lord,

I will my heart prepare ;
And to the list’ning world thy works,

Thy wondrous works declare.
The thought of them shall to my soul

Exalted pleasure bring;
Whilst to thy name, O Lord Most High,

Triumphantly I sing.
All those who have thy goodness prov'd,

Will in thy truth confide;
Thy mercy ne'er forsook the man

That on thy help relied.
Sing praises, therefore, to the Lord,

From Sion, his abode;
Proclaim his deeds, till all the world
Confess no other God.

X.

ABRIDGE.

C. M.

O GOD, the help of all thy saints,

Our hope in time of ill,
We'll trust thee, though thy face be hid,

And seek thy presence still.
Why should the men of pride and sin

Thy truth and power defy ?
And boast as if their evil way

Were hidden from thine eye?
Lord, thou hast seen, arise and save;

To thee our cause we bring;
Reign thou in righteousness and power,

For thou alone art King.
All our desires to thee are known;

Thy help is ever near :
O first prepare our hearts to pray,

And then accept our prayer.

ISLINGTON.

L. M.

XI.

MY refuge is the God of love ;
Why do my foes insult and cry,

Fly, like a timorous, trembling dove,
To distant woods and mountains fly?
The Lord in heaven has fix'd his throne,
His eyes survey the world below;
To him all mortal things are known;
His eyelids search our spirits through.
If he afflict his saints so far,
To prove their love and try their grace,
What must the bold transgressors fear!
His very soul abhors their ways.
The righteous Lord loves righteous souls,
Whose thoughts and actions are sincere ;
And with a gracious eye beholds
The men that his own image bear.

WILTSHIRE.

C. M.

XII.

LORD, when iniquities abound,

And blasphemy grows bold,
When faith is hardly to be found,

And love is waxing cold,
Is not thy chariot hast’ning on?

Hast thou not giv’n this sign?
May we not trust and live upon

A promise so divine ?
“ Yes," saith the Lord, now will I rise,

“And make oppressors flee;
* I shall appear to their surprise,

“And set my servants free.”
Thy word, like silver seven times tried,

Through ages shall endure ;
The men that in thy truth confide

Shall find the promise sure.

C. M

XIII.

BEDFORD.
HOW long wilt thou forget me, Lord ?

Must I for ever mourn ?
How long wilt thou withdraw from me,

0! never to return?
O hear, and to my longing eyes

Restore thy wonted light?
And suddenly, or I shall sleep

In everlasting night.
Restore me, lest they proudly boast

'Twas their own strength o'ercame;
Permit not them that vex my soul

To triumph in my shame.
Then shall my song, with praise inspir'd,

To thee, my God, ascend;
Who to thy servant in distress

Such bounty didst extend.

XIV.
ST. BRIDE's.

S. M. “ NO God !” the fool hath said.

They choose an evil way;
Their thoughts are all corrupt and vain;

Their feet are gone astray.
The Lord from heaven most high

Look'd down on all mankind :
There was not one that sought indeed

The living God to find.
Who shall restore the lost !

Lord, when wilt thou fulfil
Thy promise once to Israel made

From Sion's holy hiil ?
O bring the wand'rers back;

The captive soul restore;
Then Jacob shall rejoice again,

And Israel weep no more.

XV.

C. M.

ST. STEPHEN's.
LORD, who's the happy man that may

To thy blest courts repair ;
Not, stranger like, to visit them,

But to inhabit there?
The man who walks in pious ways,

And works with righteous hands ;
Who trusts his Maker's promises,

And follows his commands :
Who speaks the meaning of his heart,

Nor slanders with his tongue;
Who scarce believes an ill report,

To do his neighbour wrong.
This is the man, who rais'd from death,

Shall reach that high abode ;
Where all the spirits of the just

Are perfect with their God.

FALCONBRIDGE.

L. M.

XVI.

WHEN God is nigh, my faith is strong,
His arm is my almighty prop :
Be glad my heart, rejoice my tongue,
My dying flesh shall rest in hope.
Though in the dust I lay my head,
Yet, gracious Lord, thou wilt not leave
My soul for ever with the dead,
Nor lose thy children in the grave.
My flesh shall thy first call obey,
Shake off the dust, and rise on high :
Then shalt thou lead the wondrous way
Up to thy throne above the sky.
There streams of endless pleasure flow;
And full discov'ries of thy grace,
Which we but tasted here below,
Spread heavenly joy through all the place.

L. M.

XVII.

ST. OLAVE's.
O GOD, on whom my hopes rely.
In thee I trust, to thee I cry;
Keep me from sin and danger free,
And guide my footsteps home to thee.
This life's a dream, an empty show;
But that bright world to which I go
Hath joys substantial and divine :
When shall I wake, and call them mine!
O glorious hour! O blest abode !
I shall be near, and like my God :
No more shall flesh and sin control
The sacred pleasu, es of my soul.
My dust shall slumber in the ground,
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound;
Then burst the chains with glad surprise,
And in thy glorious image rise.

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