To-day on that mount we would seek for thy
O Spirit of Holiness, meet with us there; Our hearts then will feel, thine high influence pos
The sweetness of praise and the fervour of prayer. EDMESTON,
AGAIN the Lord of life and light
Awakes the kindling ray;
Unseals the eyelids of the morn,
And pours increasing day.
O what a night was that which wrapp'd
The heathen world in gloom!
O what a Sun, which broke, this day,
Triumphant from the tomb!
This day be grateful homage paid,
And loud hosannas sung;
Let gladness dwell in ev'ry heart,
And praise on ev'ry tongue.
Ten thousand diff'ring lips shall join
To hail this welcome morn,
Which scatters blessings from its wings
To nations yet unborn.
Jesus, the friend of human kind,
With strong compassion mov'd,
Descended, like a pitying God,
To save the souls he lov'd.
The pow'rs of darkness leagued in vain,
To bind his soul in death;
He shook their kingdom, when he fell,
With his expiring breath.
Not long the toils of hell could keep
The hope of Judah's line;
Corruption never could take hold
On aught so much divine.
And now his conqu'ring chariot wheels
Ascend the lofty skies;
While, broke, beneath his pow'rful cross,
Death's iron sceptre lies.
Exalted high at God's right hand,
And Lord of all below,
Through him is pard'ning love dispens'd,
And boundless blessings flow.
And still, for erring, guilty man
A brother's pity flows;
And still his bleeding heart is touch'd
With mem'ry of our woes.
To thee, my Saviour, and my King,
Glad homage let me give;
And stand prepar'd, like thee to die,
With thee that I may live.
WELCOME, returning day of rest,
Welcome to souls by sin oppress'd,
Welcome to this reviving breast,
United hymns of prayer and praise,
To Him whose love still guides our ways,
We hasten, at thy dawn, to raise,
Oh! may we feel that Saviour near,
Whose presence dries the mourner's tear,
And makes thy hallow'd hours more dear,
May thy delightful season prove
How much we owe a Saviour's love;
And fit us for the joys above,
'Tis past!-the dreary week of toil,
Roll'd on the wheels of time away,
Retires, to bring with pleasing smile
Another happy, holy day.
Sabbath! I love thy coming near,
The thought of thee revives my breast;
Sabbath! 'tis music to mine ear,
A sound that whispers peace and rest.
Away, terrestrial thoughts, away!
I hail the sacred morning's dawn;
My spirit owns devotion's sway,
From earthly joys and cares withdrawn.
I love in Zion's gates to meet
With thy dear saints, O Lord, and thee;
Yes, Sabbath! thou art truly sweet,
Blest emblem of eternity!
HAIL! hallowed morn! hail, happy day,
When earthly feelings pass away;
Hail, sacred morning, day of prayer,
When God has promised to be near-
All hail! The Sabbath-day of rest;
Our wearied spirits will be blest
With joy, all other joys above;
By Him "whom seeing not we love."
In the Redeemer's blood we lave;
Where is thy victory, O Grave!
Hail, heavenly Father! gloried Son !
This day Salvation's throne was won;
Hail, Holy Spirit! Mystic Three;
JEHOVAH1-Triune Deity!
TEACH me thy love to know,
That this new light, which now I see, May both the work and workman shew; Then by a sunbeam I will climb to thee.
My soul, with rapture hail the day
That drives thy worldly cares away,
That ushers in a sweet repose
From sensual joys and earthly woes!
The day of days supremely blest,
A Sabbath of delightful rest;
An antepast of joys to come,
In the believer's heavenly home.
Then onward speed my willing feet,
To God's own house, his saints to meet;
With them to offer prayer and praise,
To hear his will and learn his ways.
And when, in course, (time running on,)
The day is past, the Sabbath gone,
O may the Saviour long remain
To guide, to govern, to restrain.
DEAR is the hallowed spot to me,
When village bells awake the day;
And, by their sacred minstrelsy,
Call me from earthly cares away.
And dear to me the winged hour,
Spent in thy hallow'd courts, O Lord!
To feel devotion's soothing power,
And catch the manna of thy word.
And dear to me the loud Amen!
Which echoes through the blest abode,
Which swells, and sinks, and swells again,
Dies on the walls, but lives to God.
And dear the rustic harmony,
Sung with the pomp of village art;
That holy, heavenly melody,
The music of a thankful heart.
In secret I have often prayed,
And still the anxious tear would fall;
But on thy sacred altar laid,
The fire descends, and dries them all.
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