ANGELS' SONG. L. M.

O. GIBBONS.

Isaac Watts,

2 Morning Hymn.

4

Invocation.
O CHRIST! with each returning morn COME, gracious Lord, descend and dwell,
Thine image to our hearts be borne;

By faith and love, in every breast;
And may we ever clearly see

Then shall we know, and taste, and feel
Our God and Saviour, Lord, in thee! The joys that cannot be expressed.
2 All hallowed be our walk this day; 2 Come, fill our hearts with inward strength,
May meekness form our early ray,

Make our enlargéd souls possess,
And faithful love our noontide light, And learn the height, and breadth, and length
And hope our sunset, calm and bright.

Of thine eternal love and grace.
3 May grace each idle thought control, 3 Now to the God whose power can do
And sanctify our wayward soul;

More than our thoughts and wishes know,
May guile depart, and malice cease, Be everlasting honors done,
And all within be joy and peace.

By all the Church, through Christ his Son. 4 Our daily course, O Jesus, bless;

5

“A nobler Rest." Make plain the way of holiness: From sudden falls our feet defend,

THINE earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love,

But there's a nobler rest above; And cheer at last our journey's end.

To that our longing souls aspire,

With cheerful hope and strong desire. 3

“Early Vows." My opening eyes with rapture see

2 No more fatigue, no more distress, The dawn of thy returning day;

Nor sin nor death shall reach the place; My thoughts, O God, ascend to thee, No groans shall mingle with the songs While thus my early vows I pay.

That warble from immortal tongues. 2 Oh, bid this trifling world retire, 3 No rude alarms of raging foes,

And drive each carnal thought away; No cares to break the long repose, Nor let me feel one vain desire

No midnight shade, no clouded sun, One sinful thought through all the day. But sacred, high, eternal noon. 3 Then, to thy courts when I repair, 4 O long-expected day, begin!

My soul shall rise on joyful wing, Dawn on these realms of woe and sin; The wonders of thy love declare,

Fain would we leave this weary road, And join the strains which angels sing. And sleep in death to rest with God.

John Chandler, tr.

James Hutton.

Fhilip Doddridge.

Stewart.

6 Sabbath Eve.

8

Giver of Rest. SWEET is the light of Sabbath eve,

COME, Holy Spirit! calm my mind, And soft the sunbeams lingering there; And fit me to approach my God; For these blest hours the world I leave, Remove each vain, each worldly thought,

Wafted on wings of faith and prayer. And lead me to thy blest abode. 2 The time, how lovely and how still! 2 Hast thou imparted to my

soul Peace shines and smiles on all below; A living spark of holy fire? The plain, the stream, the wood, the hill, Oh, kindle now the sacred flame;

All fair with evening's setting glow. Make me to burn with pure desire. 3 Season of rest! the tranquil soul 3 A brighter faith and hope impart,

Feels the sweet calm, and melts to love, And let me now my Saviour see; And while these sacred moments roll, Oh, soothe and cheer my burdened heart,

Faith sees the smiling heaven above. And bid my spirit rest in thee. 4 Nor will our days of toil be long;

9

Invocation.
Our pilgrimage will soon be trod;
And we shall join the ceaseless song,

Far from my thoughts, vain world, begone! The endless Sabbath of our God.

Let my religious hours alone:

James Edmeston. Fain would mine eyes my Saviour see: 7

I wait a visit, Lord, from thee. "Gate of Heaven." How SWEET to leave the world awhile, 2 My heart grows warm with holy fire,

And seek the presence of our Lord! And kindles with a pure desire: Dear Saviour! on thy people smile, Come, my dear Jesus! from above,

And come, according to thy word. And feed my soul with heavenly love. 2 From busy scenes we now retreat, 3 Blest Saviour! what delicious fare,

That we may here converse with thee: How sweet thine entertainments are! Ah, Lord! behold us at thy feet;

Never did angels taste, above,
Let this the “gate of heaven” be. Redeeming grace and dying love.
3

Chief of ten thousand!” now appear, 4 Hail, great Immanuel, all-divine!
That we by faith may see thy face: In thee thy Father's glories shine:
Oh, speak, that we thy voice may hear, Thou brightest, sweetest, fairest One
And let thy presence fill this place. That

seen, or angels known!

Isaac Watts.

10

Psalm 84.
HOW PLEASANT, how divinely fair,

3 God is our sun, he makes our day; O Lord of hosts! thy dwellings are! God is our shield, he guards our way With long desire my spirit faints,

From all the assaults of hell and sin,
To meet the assemblies of thy saints. From foes without and foes within.
2 My flesh would rest in thine abode, 4 All needful grace will God bestow,
My panting heart cries out for God; And crown that grace with glory, too;
My God! my King! why should I be He gives us all things, and withholds
So far from all my joys, and thee?

No real good from upright souls. 3 Blest are the saints who sit on high, 5 O God, our King, whose sovereign sway Around thy throne of majesty;

The glorious hosts of heaven obey, Thy brightest glories shine above,

Display thy grace, exert thy power, And all their work is praise and love. Till all on earth thy name adore! 4 Blest are the souls who find a place

12 Within the temple of thy grace;

“Return, my soul !" There they behold thy gentler rays,

ANOTHER six days' work is done,

Another Sabbath is begun; And seek thy face, and learn thy praise.

Return, my soul! enjoy thy rest, 5 Cheerful they walk with growing strength, Improve the day thy God hath blessed. Till all shall meet in heaven at length; Till all before thy face appear,

2 Oh, that our thoughts and thanks may rise, And join in nobler worship there.

As grateful incense to the skies;

And draw from heaven that sweet repose, 11

Which none, but he that feels it, knows. Psalm 84. GREAT God! attend, while Zion sings 3 This heavenly calm, within the breast, The joy that from thy presence springs; Is the dear pledge of glorious rest, To spend one day with thee on earth Which for the church of God remainsExceeds a thousand days of mirth.

The end of cares, the end of pains. 2 Might I enjoy the meanest place

4 In holy duties, let the day,
Within thy house, O God of grace! In holy pleasures, pass away;
Nor tents of ease, nor thrones of power, How sweet a Sabbath thus to spend,
Should tempt my feet to leave thy door. In hope of one that ne'er shall end.

Isaac Watts.

а

J. Stennett.