Sweet day! so cool, so calm, so bright
Sweet is the memory of thy grace
Sweet is the scene where virtue dies

Sweet is the work, my God, my King

Sweet morn! from countless cups of gold.

180

Teach us to pray

Tell me not in mournful numbers

Thanks, thanks unto God who in mercy hath spoken

The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces

The earth and all the heavenly frame

The fair varieties of earth

The glories of our mortal state

361

The prayers

Then round about the starry throne.
The ocean looketh up to heaven
The offerings to thy throne which rise
The past is dark with sin and shame

I make will then be sweet indeed

446

110

9

297

327

There's life abroad;-from each green tree
There was joy in heaven.

112

77

277

160

7

302

319

They who seek the throne of grace
Thirsting for a living spring
Think gently of the erring one
This world is not a fleeting show.
Thou art, O God, the life and light
Thou art the first, and thou the last.
Thou art the Way-and he who sighs
Thou biddest, Lord, thy sons be bold
Thou didst make the darksome night
Thou from whom we never part
Thou God of love and mercy, hear

79

2

203

234

187

186

172

Thy neighbour! It is he whom thou

Thou who art enthroned above

Thou, who didst stoop below

Through all the various shifting scenes.
Through endless years thou art the same
Through every age, eternal God

Thus shalt thou love the Almighty Lord
Thy justice, Lord, maintains its throne.
Thy kingdom, Lord! for ever stands
Thy name, almighty Lord . .

Thy will be done! In devious way.
'Tis by thy strength the mountains stand
'Tis not the gift-but 'tis the spirit.
"Tis religion that can give

16

223

133

147

134

291

150

127

39

296

389

99

295

245'

To God on high be thanks and praise
To him who children blest

140

171

To keep the lamp alive

.

To our high-raised phantasy present
To thee, my God, my days are known

266

423

135

Up to the hills I lift mine eyes
Unnumbered systems, suns, and worlds

When from the Jordan's gleaming wave
When Israel of the Lord beloved

169

436

When the ear heard him, then it blessed him.

442

When up to mighty skies we gaze

113

Where ancient forests widely spread
Whether men reap or sow the fields.

While I do rest, my soul advance
While thee I seek, protecting Power

While to the grave our friends are borne
Who shall a temple build for him
Who sings well. . .

Why should dreams so dark and dreary

6

98

438

132

403

32

239

429

1

Wilt thou not visit me

With glory clad, with strength arrayed

With silence only as their benediction
With songs and honours sounding loud
Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous.

JOHN EDWARD TAYLOR, PRINTER,
LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN fields.