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petitions of prayer, or the imperfect expressions of Christian experience that fall from the lips of the new-born soul. Such things are interesting in their place, because they show the undisguised sincerity of the person who utters them; but certainly they are not on this account to be collected and published as suitable materials for a manual of devotion!

Such are the views entertained by the compilers of this work. On the materials here presented, they have bestowed abundant labor. Their object has been, uniformly to connect chaste simplicity with the fervor of devotion. Most of the tunes are simple and familiar. Many of them have been composed expressly for this work. Not one of them, it is believed, has been injured by unhallowed associations. The words have been selected and arranged with care, through the kind assistance of several of the clergy; and not a few of the poetic specimens which are here presented, have been furnished by different hands, as original compositions. These and other favors will be more fully acknowledged in the sequel. That the work may prove extensively useful in elevating the standard of sacred music, and in enlivening the devotions of the pious, is the sincere and earnest prayer of

COMPILERS. January, 1833.


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Thou, whose

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hand in

dulgent wipes the

tears, From sorrow's







2. Contrition.

4. Seeking after God.

Job xxiii. 3. i o Thou, whose tender mercy hears 1 Oh, that I knew the secret place,

Contrition's humble cry; (tears Where I might find my God; Whose hand, indulgent, wipes the

I'd spread my wants before his face, From Sorrow's weeping eye;

And pour my woes abroad. 2 See, low before thy throne of grace, 2 I'd tell him how my sins arise,

A wretcbed wand'rer mourn; What sorrows I sustain; Hast thou not bid me seek thy face? How grace decays,how comfort dies, Hast thou not said—“Return ?"

And leaves my heart in pain. 3 And shall my guilty 'fears prevail 3 He knows what arguments I'd take To drive me from thy feet?

To wrestle with my God : Oh, let not this dear refuge fail, I'd plead for his own mercy's sake, This only safe retreat!

And for my Saviour's blood. 4 Absent from thee, my guide, my 4 My God will pity my complaints, Without one cheering ray; (light,

And heal my broken bones; Thro' dangers, fears, and gloomy

He takes the meaning of his saints, How desolate my way. [night,

The language of their groans. 5 Oh, shine on this benighted heart, 5 Arise, my soul, from deep distress, With beams of mercy shine!

And banish every fear;, And let thy healing voice impart

He calls tbee to his throne of grace, A taste of joys divine.

To spread thy sorrows there. 3. Penitence.

5. A Refuge from the Storm. Prostrate, dear Jesus, at thy feet|1 Dear refuge of my weary soul, A guilty rebel lies;

On thee, when sorrows rise, And upward to the mercy-seat On thee, when waves of trouble roll, Presumes to lift his eyes.

My fainting hope relies. 2 Oh, let not justice frown me bence; 2 To thee I tell each rising grief,

Stay, stay the vengeful storm; For thou alone canst heal; Forbid it, that Omnipotence Thy word can bring a sweet relief

Should crush a feeble worm. For every pain I feel. 3 If tears of sorrow would suffice 3 ButO! when gloomy doubts prevail, To pay the debt I owe, [ing eyes,

I fear to call thee mine; Tears should from both my weep- The springs of comfort seem to fail, In ceaseless currents flow.

And all my hopes decline. 4 But no such sacrifice I plead, 4 Yet gracious God, where shall I

To expiate my guilt; [shed, Thou art my only trust; [fiee ? No tears, but those which thou hast And still my soul would cleave to

No blood, but thou hast spilt. Tho' prostrate in the dast. [thee,

Deut. xxxiii. 27.


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O my

Saviour, hide,

Till the

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life be

past; Safe in

to the

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