Could make me so divinely blest, 3 Amidst the wakeful hours of night, 4 I'll lift my hands, I'll raise my voice, While I have breath to pray or praise ; This work shall make my heart rejoice, And fill the remnant of my days. HYMN 435. L. M. [#] Private and public Devotion. 1 GOD in his earthly temple lays Foundations for his heavenly praise; And loves to see that worship rise, Which forms his offspring for the skies. 2 His mercy every house attends, Whence pure devotion's flame ascends, And ever lends a gracious ear, Where churches join in praise and prayer. 3 His blessing yields a large increase 4 Father supreme, whose sovereign sway On earth, in heaven, to dwell with thee. HYMN 436. 8 & 7s. M. [#] Devotional Praise. 1 PRAISE to thee, thou great Creator; 2 For ten thousand blessings given, Sound his praise through earth and heaven, HYMN 437. S. M. [#] Pure Devotion. 1 LET pure devotion rise, 2 His word, like drops of dew, 3 His grace our faith sustains, Binds all our wounds, abates our pains, 4 He bids our willing eyes Look through the gloomy shade, To joys immortal in the skies, CONSOLATORY SUBJECTS. HYMN 438. C. M. [b] God the Source of Consolation. 1 WHEN 'reft of all, and hopeless care 2 No balm that earthly plants distil 3 But One alone, who reigns above, And light the lamp of life and love 4 Then, O my soul, to that One flee; His eye alone thy wounds can see, His power alone can heal. HYMN 439. L. M. [b] Death the Gate of endless Joy. 1 WHY should we start and fear to die? What timorous worms we mortals are! Death is the gate of endless joy, And yet we dread to enter there. 2 The pains, the groans, and dying strife, Fright our approaching souls away; Still we shrink back again to life, Fond of our prison and our clay. 3 O, if my Lord would come and meet, 4 Jesus can make a dying bed Feel soft as downy pillows are, While on his breast I lean my head, And breathe my life out sweetly there. HYMN 440. C. M. C. M. [b] Comfort under Bereavements. 1 WHY do we mourn departed friends, Or shake at death's alarms? "Tis but the voice that Jesus sends To call them to his arms. 2 Are we not tending upward, too, Nor would we wish the hours more slow, 3 Why should we tremble to convey There the dear flesh of Jesus lay, 4 Thence he arose, ascended high, Up to the Lord our souls shall fly 5 Then let the last loud trumpet sound, HYMN 441. L. P. M. [b] On the Death of Friends. 2 Thy hand lies heavy on my soul, While dust and silence spread the gloom : 3 As lost in lonely grief I tread Recalls my wandering thoughts to mourn; |