4 Then peace returns with balmy wing;
Sweet peace, with her what blessings fled!
Glad plenty laughs, the valleys sing,
Reviving commerce lifts her head.
5 Thou good, and wise, and righteous Lord!
All move subservient to thy will;
Both peace and war await thy word,
And thy sublime decrees fulfil.
6 To thee we pay our grateful songs;
Thy kind protection still implore:
O may our hearts, and lives, and tongues,
Confess thy goodness, and adore.
God the Deliverer of Nations. Ps. 44.
1 O LORD, our fathers oft have told
In our attentive ears,
Thy wonders in their days performed,
And elder times than theirs.
2 "T was not their courage, nor their sword,
To them salvation gave;
Nor strength, that from unequal force
Their fainting troops could save:
3 But thy right hand, and powerful arm,
Whose succor they implored;
Thy presence with the favored race,
Who thy great name adored.
4 As thee their God our fathers owned,
Thou art our sovereign King:
O therefore, as thou didst to them,
To us deliverance bring.
1 WHILE Sounds of war are heard around,
And death and ruin strew the ground;
To thee we look, on thee we call,
The Parent and the Lord of all.
2 Thou, who hast stamped on human kind
The image of a heaven-born mind,
And in a Father's wide embrace
Hast cherished all the kindred race;
3 Great God! whose powerful hand can bind
The raging waves, the furious wind,
O bid the human tempest cease,
And hush the maddening world to peace.
4 With reverence may each hostile land
Hear and obey that high command,
Thy Son's blest errand from above-
"My creatures, live in mutual love!"
Remembrance of our Fathers.
1 IN pleasant lands have fallen the lines
That bound our goodly heritage,
And safe beneath our sheltering vines
Our youth is blest, and soothed our age.
2 What thanks, O God, to thee are due,
That thou didst plant our fathers here;
And watch and guard them as they grew,
A vineyard to the planter dear.
3 The toils they bore, our ease have wrought;
They sowed in tears-in joy we reap;
The birthright they so dearly bought
We'll guard, till we with them shall sleep.
4 Thy kindness to our fathers shown,
In weal and woe through all the past,
Their grateful sons, O God, shall own,
While here their name and race shall last.
1 GREAT Framer of unnumbered worlds, And whom unnumbered worlds adore! Whose goodness all thy creatures share, While nature trembles at thy power:
2 Thine is the hand that moves the spheres,
That wakes the wind, and lifts the sea;
And man, who moves the lord of earth,
Acts but the part assigned by thee.
3 While suppliant crowds implore thine aid,
To thee we raise the humble cry;
Thine altar is the contrite heart,
Thine incense, a repentant sigh.
4 O may our land, in this her hour,
Confess thy hand, and bless the rod,
By penitence make thee her friend,
And find in thee a guardian God!
For Saturday Evening.
1 SAFELY through another week
God has brought us on our way;
Let us now a blessing seek
On the approaching Sabbath day;
Day of all the week the best,
Emblem of eternal rest.
2 Mercies multiplied, each hour,
Through the week our praise demand;
Guarded by thy mighty power,
Fed and guided by thy hand.
From our worldly care set free,
May we rest this night with thee.
3 When the morn shall bid us rise,
May we feel thy pleasure near;
May thy glory meet our eyes,
When we in thy house appear;
Blest may all our Sabbaths prove,
Till we join the church above.
Death of a Minister in his Prime.
1 Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime, In full activity of zeal and power;
A Christian cannot die before his time, The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour. 2 Go to the grave; at noon from labor cease; Rest on thy sheaves, thy harvest task is done; Come from the heat of battle, and in peace, Soldier, go home; with thee the fight is won.
3 Go to the grave, for there thy Saviour lay In death's embraces, ere he rose on high; And all the ransomed, by that narrow way, Pass to eternal life beyond the sky.
4 Go to the grave:-no, take thy seat above; Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord, Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love, And open vision for the written word.
On the Death of an aged Minister.
SERVANT of God, well done!
Rest from thy loved employ;
The battle fought, the victory won,
Enter thy Master's joy.
2 The voice at midnight came,
He started up to hear;
A mortal arrow pierced his frame—
He fell, but felt no fear.
3 Tranquil amidst alarms,
It found him on the field,
A veteran slumbering on his arins,
Beneath his red-cross shield.
4 The pains of death are past;
Labor and sorrow cease;
And, life's long warfare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.
5 Soldier of Christ, well done!
Praise be thy new employ;
And while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour's joy.
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