PREFACE.

FREQUENT enquiries for a Temperance Hymn Book have led to this compilation. Wesley said years ago, it was a pity Satan should have all the best tunes. The same may as properly be said of songs, which have contributed much to intemperance. Surely it is time that both music and song which have been thus perverted, should at once be rescued to the aid of temperance. The numerous beautiful poetical effusions on the subject, now enable us to present a valuable compi. lation. It is hoped that it will prove acceptable and useful to the American public;—valuable not only in temperance meetings, but in families, forming the minds and hearts of children and youth to an abhorrence of those intoxicating drinks, which have slain their millions.

NEW-YORK, April 1, 1841.

TEMPERANCE HYMN BOOK,

1

PERFECTIONS OF GOD.

PART T

The perfections of God, our confidence in worke of Moral Reform.. :

1

C

6s. & 4s.

YOME thou Almighty King,
Help us thy name to sing,
Help us to praise !

Father all glorious,

O'er all victorious,
Come and reign over us
Ancient of days.

2 Jesus our Lord arise,
Scatter our enemies,
And make them fall!
Let thine Almighty aid,
Our sure defence be made,
Our souls on thee be stay'd,
Lord, hear our call!

3 To the great One in three,
The highest praises be,
Hence evermore;
His sovereign majesty,
May we in glory see,
And to eternity,
Love and adore.

Madans Coli,

1ATHER, how wide thy glory shines!

FHow high thy wonders rise!

Known thro' the earth by thousand signs,
By thousands thro' the skies.

2 But when we view thy strange design,
To save rebellidus worms;
Where vengeance and compassion join
In their divinest forms;

3-Here the whole.Deity is known;
Nor dares a creature guess-
Which of the glories brightest shone-
The justice or the grace.

4 Now the full glories of the Lamb,
Adorn the heavenly plains:

Bright seraphs learn Immanuel's name,
And try their choicest strains.

5 O may I bear some humble part,
In that immortal song!

Wonder and joy shall tune my heart,
And love command my tongue.

Its chief beloved chose;

And bade him raise our ruin'd race,
From their abyss of woes.

2 His hand no thunder bears,

No terror clothes his brow;
No bolts to drive our guilty souls,

To fiercer flames below.

3 'Twas mercy fill'd the throne,
And wrath stood silent by,

When Christ was sent with pardon down
To rebels doom'd to die.