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C. M. 712.
CHRISTIAN MIRROR Give Alms to the Poor, -- Give all to Christ. i She loved her Saviour, and to him
Her costliest present brought;
No gift too rare she thought.
2 So let the Saviour be adored,
And not the poor despised,
But all, give all to Christ.
Give to the weary rest;
And help for all distressed; —
Thy faith, thy love supreme;
And so give all to him.
1 What shall we render, bounteous Lord,
For all the grace we see?
Extendeth not to thee.
2 Our offering is a willing mind
To comfort the distressed;
In others' blessings blessed.
3 To tents of woe, to beds of pain,
Our cheerful feet repair ;
Relieve the mourners there.
The orphan shall be fed ;
To Christ, the living bread.
Our useful light shall shine;
Our Father's name. divine
A word of thine almighty breath
Thy smile is life, thy frown is death. 2 When
nations rush to arms, And rage, and noise, and tumult reign, And war resounds its dire alarms,
And slaughter dyes the hostile plain, 3 Thy sovereign eye looks calmly down, And marks their course,
and bounds their power, Thy law the angry nations own, And noise and war are heard no more. 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 ;
6 To thee we pay our grateful songs;
Thy kind protection still implore :
How rich thy gifts, Almighty King!
2 Here commerce spreads the wealthy store,
As truth and conscience point the way. 3 With grateful hearts, with joyful tongues,
To God we raise united songs.
6 & 48. M.
Praise to the God of Harvest.
1 The God of harvest praise ;
Hand, heart, and voice;
The streams rejoice.
Through all the earth;
Amidst your mirth.
With sweet accord ;
Bless ye the Lord.
H. WARE, JR.
A Psalm of Praise.
1 Around the throne of God,
The host angelic throngs;
And shout perpetual songs :
God ever blest, Hind la-t, and best, And God alone.
2 Their golden crowns they fling
Before his throne of light,
Unceasing, day and night;
The joyous chorus raise,
And echo back the praise ;
God ever blest, First, last, and best, And God alone.
“Is it such a fast that I have chosen ?"
« Is this a fast for me?"
Thus saith the Lord our God ;“ A day for man to vex his soul,
And feel afsliction's rod?
“ Like bulrush low to bow
His sorrow-stricken head,
And ashes round him spread ?
To stay the avenging hand,
My judgments from the land ? 4 “No; is not this alone
The sacred fast I choose, Oppression's yoke to burst in twain,
"he bands of guilt unloose?