C. M.

712.

Give Alms to the Poor,- Give all to Christ.

1 SHE loved her Saviour, and to him
Her costliest present brought;
To crown his head, or grace his name,
No gift too rare she thought.

2 So let the Saviour be adored,
And not the poor despised,
Give to the hungry from your hoard,
But all, give all to Christ.

3 Go, clothe the naked, lead the blind,
Give to the weary rest;

For sorrow's children comfort find,
And help for all distressed;-

CHRISTIAN MIRROR

4 But give to Christ alone thy heart,
Thy faith, thy love supreme;
Then for his sake thine alms impart,
And so give all to him.

For a Charitable Occasion.

1 WHAT shall we render, bounteous Lord,
For all the grace we see?

Alas! the goodness we can yield
Extendeth not to thee.

2 Our offering is a willing mind
To comfort the distressed;
In others' griefs our own to find,
In others' blessings blessed.

3 To tents of woe, to beds of pain, Our cheerful feet repair;

And, with the gifts thy hand bestows,
Relieve the mourners there.

1 The widow's heart shall sing for joy;
The orphan shall be fed;

And hungering souls we 'll gladly point
To Christ, the living bread.

5 Thus, passing through this vale of tears,
Our useful light shall shine;
And others learn to glorify
Our Father's name. divine

714.

Thanksgiving for National Peace.

1 GREAT Ruler of the earth and skies,
A word of thine almighty breath
Can sink the world, or bid it rise;
Thy smile is life, thy frown is death.

L. M.

STEELE.

2 When angry 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;
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.

715.

Thanksgiving for National Prosperity.

1 How rich thy gifts, Almighty King!
From thee our public blessings spring:
The extended trade, the fruitful skies,
The treasures liberty bestows,
The eternal joys the Gospel shows,
All from thy boundless goodness rise.

L. M.

KIPPIS.

2 Here commerce spreads the wealthy store, Which pours from every foreign shore; Science and art their charms display; Religion teaches us to raise

Our voices to our Maker's praise,
As truth and conscience point the way.

3 With grateful hearts, with joyful tongues,
To God we raise united songs.
Here still may God in mercy reign;
Crown our just counsels with success,
With peace and joy our borders bless,
And all our sacred rights maintain.

716.

Praise to the God of Harvest.

1 THE God of harvest praise;
In loud thanksgiving raise

Hand, heart, and voice;
The valleys smile and sing,
Forests and mountains ring,
The plains their tribute bring,
The streams rejoice.

6 & 49. M.

2 Yea, bless his holy name,
And purest thanks proclaim
Through all the earth;
To glory in your
lot
Is duty, - but be not
God's benefits forgot,
Amidst your mirth.

MONTGOMERY.

3 The God of harvest praise;
Hands, hearts, and voices raise,
With sweet accord;
From field to garner throng,
Bearing your sheaves along,
And in your harvest song
Bless ye the Lord.

H. M.

717.

A Psalm of Praise.

1 AROUND the throne of God, The host angelic throngs; They spread their palms abroad, And shout perpetual songs: Him first they own, God ever blest, Him last, and best, And God alone.

H. WARE, JR.

2 Their golden crowns they fling Before his throne of light, And strike the rapturous string, Unceasing, day and night; Heaven, earth, and sea For thine they are, Thy praise declare, And thine shall be.

3 While thus the powers on high The joyous chorus raise, Let earth and man reply, And echo back the praise; His glory own, God ever blest, First, last, and best, And God alone.

S. M.

718.

"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 affliction's rod? —

1

2

"Like bulrush low to bow
His sorrow-stricken head,
With sackcloth for his inner vest,
And ashes round him spread?

DRUMMOND.

3

"Shall day like this have power
To stay the avenging hand,
Efface transgression, or avert
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?