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2 Triumphant in thy closing eye

The hope of glory shone;
Joy breathed in thine expiring sigh,

To think the fight was won.
Gently the passing spirit fled,

Sustained by grace divine.
Oh! may such grace on me be shed,

And make my end like thine.

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H°Whglorious is our heavenly King,

How shall a child presume to sing

His dreadful majesty ?
2 How great His power is, none can tell,

Nor think how large His grace ;
Not men below, nor saints that dwell

On high before His face.
3 Not angels that stand round the Lord

Can search His secret will ;
But they perform His heavenly word,

And sing His praises still.
4 Then let me join this holy train,

And my first offerings bring ;
The eternal God will not disdain

To hear an infant sing.
6 My heart resolves, my tongue obeys,

And angels shall rejoice,
To hear their mighty Maker's praise

Sound from a feeble voice.

863 Job xxxl. 4. ? A

L. M. TAYLOR.
MONGST the deepest shades of night,
Yes: God is like a shining light,
That turns the darkness into day.

2 When every eye around me sleeps,

May I not sin without control ?
No: for a constant watch He keeps

On every thought of every soul.
3 If I could find some cave unknown,

Where human feet had never trod,
Yet there I could not be alone;

On every side there would be God. 4 He smiles in heaven; He frowns in hell ;

He fills the air, the earth, the sea ;
I must within His presence dwell;

I cannot from His anger flee.
5 Yet I may flee: He shews me where;

To Jesus Christ He bids me fly;
And while I seek for pardon there,
There's only mercy in His eye.

864 Jer. iii. s.

4. 7's. ELLIOTT'S SEL. OD of mercy, throned on high,

1

Hear, O hear our feeble cry!

Guide, O guide our wandering feet! 2 Young and erring travellers, we

All our dangers do not know;
Scarce descry the stormy sea,

Hardly feel the tempest blow. 3 Jesus, lover of the young,

Cleanse us with Thy blood divine;
Ere the tide of sin grow strong,

Save us, Lord, and keep us Thine. 865 Matt. vi. 9.

9. L. M. TAYLOR 1

G
YREAT God, and wilt Thou condescend

To be my Father and my Friend ?
I, a poor child, and Thou so high,
The Lord of earth, and air, and sky ?

2 Art Thou my Father? canst Thou bear

To hear my poor imperfect prayer?
Or wilt Thou listen to the praise,

Which such a little one can raise ? 3 Art Thou my Father ? let me be

A meek obedient child to Thee :
And try, in word, and deed, and thought,

To serve and please Thee as I ought. 4 Art Thou my Father ? I'll depend

Upon the care of such a friend ;
And only wish to do, and be,

Whatever seemeth good to Thee.
5 Art Thou my Father ? then, at last,

When all my days on earth are past,
Send down, and take me in Thy love,
To be Thy better child above.

866

G God, ito whom we move and live;

Psalm viii, 2. 7'S. MONTGOMERY, | LORY the ,

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Children's prayers He deigns to hear;

Children's songs delight His ear. 2 Glory to the Son we bring,

Christ our Prophet, Priest, and King ;
Children, raise your sweetest strain

To the Lamb, for He was slain. 3 Glory to the Holy Ghost;

Be this day a Pentecost;
Children's minds may He inspire ;

Touch their tongues with holy fire. 4 Glory in the highest be

To the blessed Trinity,
For the gospel from above,
For the word, that “God is love."

867

10

Luke il. 46-51. C. M. HEBER.
WISDOM, whose unfading power

Before the Eternal stood ;
To frame in nature's earliest hour

The land, the sky, the flood.
2 Yet didst Thou not disdain awhile

An infant form to wear,
To bless Thy mother with a smile,

And lisp Thy faltering prayer. 3 But in Thy Father's own abode,

With Israel's elders round,
Conversing high with Israel's God,

Thy chiefest joy was found.
4 So may our youth adore Thy name;

And, Saviour, deign to bless,
With fostering grace, the timid flame

Of early holiness.

868

2 Tim. iii. 14, 15. S. M. WATTS. 1 HE

I offer to the Lord,
That I was taught and learned so young

To read His holy word.
2 Dear Lord, this book of Thine

Informs me where to go
For grace to pardon all my sin,

And make me holy too. 3 O may Thy Spirit teach,

And make my heart receive, Those truths which all Thy servants preach,

And all Thy saints believe.
1 Then shall I praise the Lord

In a more cheerful strain,
That I was taught to read His word,

And have not learned in vain.

2 Art Thou my Father? canst Thou bear

To hear my poor imperfect prayer ?
Or wilt Thou listen to the praise,

Which such a little one can raise ? 3 Art Thou my Father ? let me be

A meek obedient child to Thee;
And try, in word, and deed, and thought,

To serve and please Thee as I ought. 4 Art Thou my Father? I'll depend

Upon the care of such a friend ;
And only wish to do, and be,

Whatever seemeth good to Thee.
5 Art Thou my Father? then, at last,

When all my days on earth are past,
Send down, and take me in Thy love,
To be Thy better child above.

866 Psalm viii. 2. 78. MONTGOMERY.

G cand live;

1

YLORY to the Father give,

Children's prayers He deigns to hear;

Children's songs delight His ear. 2 Glory to the Son we bring,

Christ our Prophet, Priest, and King;
Children, raise your sweetest strain

To the Lamb, for He was slain. 3 Glory to the Holy Ghost;

Be this day a Pentecost;
Children's minds may He inspire ;

Touch their tongues with holy fire.
4 Glory in the highest be
For the
gospel from above,

, For the word, that “God is love."

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