Yes! let us sing of God-the spring, The source of all we feel and see; What theme can be so blest as He- Director-life-sustainer-king!
Lift, lift, my love! thy thoughts on high; I'll follow their sublimest flight,
And hill and wood and valley bright Shall to the joyous hymn reply.
O Father! we approach Thy throne, Who bidd'st the glorious sun arise: All-good, Almighty, and All-wise! Great source of all things-God alone! We see Thee, brighter than the rays
Of the bright sun: we see Thee shine, As in a fountain's face-divine; We see Thee-endless fount of days: We see Thee, who our frames hast brought, With one swift word, from senseless clay- Waked-with one glance of heavenly ray, Our never-dying souls from nought. Those souls Thou lightedst with the spark Of Thy pure fire-and gracious still- Gav'st immortality-free will,
And language-not involved, nor dark.
God-God be praised! who form'd us thus; He was, and is, and shall endure: Pure-He shall make all nature pure, And fix his dwelling here with us.
What sweeter thought-what stronger token,
Than that his everlasting hand
Body and soul in holy bond
Hath bound-that never shall be broken!
"Tis He whose kind and generous care This lovely garden's range hath planted, Where nought that charms desire is wanted, And joy's a guest immortal here.
The fount of life-whence waters living O'erspreading all the garden flow- Bright flowers upon their borders grow, While to the trees life's food they're giving. Here blooms the life-imparting tree, Whose fruit, just hid in silvery leaves, Makes man a spirit, and retrieves
His weakness and satiety.
The dews, from morning's vault that fall, Are honey'd manna on our tongue: Shall not his hallow'd praise be sung, Whom nature sings-the Source of all?
O blest be He who blessings pours! Who fills the heart with tenderness, And with his richest gifts will bless- He wondrous-whom our tongue adores. A full, o'erflowing horn of good
Upon our Eden he has shower'd,
And peace and hope and joy embower'd In its sweet silent solitude.
Yes! now I feel the charm divine, Yes! now I feel the bliss, the pride, To press thee, dearest! to my side, And join my early vows to thine. A unity-in love cemented,
Blest by the presence-and by thee Gilded with smiles and purity, May make my exiled soul contented. O sister-daughter-fairest bride- What shall I call thee ?-Paradise Has million flowers that smiling rise To kiss thy feet well satisfied.
Love! one shall be our will, and one Our fate, from the first dawn of day, When the bright sun begins his way, To when his weary course is done. Peace, tenderness, and joy-a shrine
Sacred to cheerful love-and praise To Him, the Lord of ceaseless days, Who blended thy fond heart with mine. JOOST VAN DEN VONdel.
GRATITUDE TO GOD.
WHEN all thy mercies, O my God! My rising soul surveys, Transported with the view I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise.
O how shall words with equal warmth The gratitude declare,
That glows within my ravish'd heart! But Thou canst read it there.
Thy providence my life sustain'd, And all my wants redrest, When in the silent womb I lay, And hung upon the breast.
To all my weak complaints and cries Thy mercy lent an ear,
Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt To form themselves in pray'r.
Unnumber'd comforts to my soul Thy tender care bestow'd, Before my infant heart conceived From whom those comforts flow'd. When in the slipp'ry paths of youth With heedless steps I ran,
Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe, And led me up to man.
Through hidden dangers, toils, and deaths, It gently clear'd my way;
And through the pleasing snares of vice, More to be fear'd than they.
When worn with sickness, oft hast Thou With health renew'd my face, And when in sins and sorrow sunk, Revived my soul with grace.
Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss Has made my cup run o'er;
And in a kind and faithful friend,
Has doubled all my store.
Ten thousand thousand precious gifts, My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.
Through every period of my life Thy goodness I'll pursue; And after death, in distant worlds, The glorious theme renew.
When nature fails, and day and night Divide thy works no more, My ever grateful heart, O Lord! Thy mercy shall adore.
Through all eternity to Thee
A joyful song I'll raise;
But, oh! eternity's too short To utter all thy praise.
"No man cometh to the Father but by me."-ST. JOHN.
REMEMBER him who left for thee His throne of power and might, Who took upon him man's estate, The helplessness of infancy, The wretchedness of poverty, The cruel scorn and tyrant hate, That he might set thy spirit free From everlasting night.
Remember him who lived for thee Through a long night of sorrow,
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