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6 Or should I try to shun thy sight

Beneath the sable wings of night,
One glance from thee, one piercing ray,

Would kindle darkness into day. 7 The veil of night is no disguise,

No screen from thy all-searching eyes:
Thro' midnight shades thou find'st thy way,

As in the blazing noon of day. 8 Search, try, O God, my thoughts and heart,

If mischief lurks in any part;
Correct me where I go astray, ·
And guide me in thy perfect way.

109. L. M. WATTS.

The All-seeing God. Ps. 139. 1 Lord, thou hast searched and seen me through;

Thine eye commands with piercing view
My rising and my resting hours,

My heart and flesh, with all their powers. 2 My thoughts, before they are my own.

Are to my God distinctly known;
He knows the words I mean to speak,

Ere from my opening lips they break. 3 Within thy circling power I stand ;

On every side I find thy hand :
Awake, asleep, at home, abroad,

I am surrounded still with God.
4 Amazing knowledge, vast and great!

What large extent! what lofty height!
My soul, with all the powers I boast,
Is in the boundless prospect lost.

5 O may these thoughts possess my breast,

Where'er I rove, where'er I rest;
Nor let my weaker passions dare
Consent to sin, for God is there.


God is everywhere. Ps. 139.
1 In all my vast concerns with thee,

In vain my soul would try
To shun thy presence, Lord, or flee

The notice of thine eye.
2 Thine all-surrounding sight surveys

My rising and my rest;
My public walks, my private ways,

And secrets of my breast.
3 My thoughts lie open to the Lord,

Before they're formed within ;
And ere my lips pronounce the word,

He knows the sense I mean. 4 O wondrous knowledge, deep and high !

Where can a creature hide ? Within thy circling arms I lie,

Beset on every side.
5 So let thy grace surround me still,

And like a bulwark prove,
To guard my soul from every ill,

Secured by sovereign love.


111. C. M. WATTS.

Wisdom of God in his Works. Ps. 111. 1 Songs of immortal praise belong

To my almighty God;
He has my heart, and he my tongue.

To spread his name abroad. 2 How great the works his hand hath wrought;

How glorious in our sight!
Good men in every age have sought

His wonders with delight.
3 How most exact is nature's frame!

How wise the Eternal Mind!
His counsels never change the scheme

That his first thoughts designed.
4 Nature and time, and earth and skies,

Thy heavenly skill proclaim; What shall we do to make us wise,

But learn to read thy name?
5 To fear thy power, to trust thy grace,

Is our divinest skill;
And he's the wisest of our race

That best obeys thy will.


L. M. WATTS. Goodness of God to Soul and Body. Ps. 103. 1 BLESS, O my soul, the living God,

Call home thy thonghts that rove abroad;
Let all the powers within me join
In work and worship so divine.

2 Bless, O my soul, the God of grace;

His favors claim thy highest praise;
Why should the wonders he hath wrought

Be lost in silence and forgot?
3 The vices of the mind he heals,

And cures the pains that nature feels,
Redeems the soul from death, and saves

Our wasting life from threatening graves. 4 Our youth decayed, his power repairs;

His mercy crowns our growing years;
He satisfies our mouth with good,

And fills our hopes with heavenly food. 5 He sees the oppressor and the oppressed,

And often gives the sufferers rest;
But will his justice more display
In the last great rewarding day.


C. M. DODDRIDGE. Mercy of God to the Frailty of Mon. Ps. 103. 1 LORD, we adore thy wondrous name,

And make that name our trust,
Which raised at first this curious frame

From mean and lifeless dust.
2 Awhile these frail machines endure,

The fabric of a day;
Then know their vital powers no more,

But moulder back to clay.
3 Yet, Lord, whate'er is felt or feared,

This thought is our repose, That He, by whom this frame was reared,

Its various weakness knows.

4 Thou view'st us with a pitying eye,

While struggling with our load; In pains and dangers thou art nigh,

Our Father, and our God. 5 Gently supported by thy love,

We tend to realms of peace; Where every pain shall far remove,

And every, frailty cease.


S. M. Watts. Abounding Compassion of God. Ps. 103 1 My soul, repeat his praise,

Whose mercies are so great;
Whose anger is so slow to rise,

So ready to abate.
2 High as the heavens are raised

Above the ground we tread,
So far the riches of his grace

Our highest thoughts exceed. 3 His power subdues our sins,

And his forgiving love,
Far as the east is from the west,

Doth all our guilt remove. 4 The pity of the Lord

To those that fear his name, Is such as tender parents feel;

He knows our feeble frame. '5 Our days are as the grass,

Or like the morning flower; If one sharp blast sweep o'er the field, It withers in an hour.

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