Ward. 114 Self-Examination. L. M. 1 BEFORE We close our eyes to-night Nor thought our duty but a task? 2 Have we been gentle, lowly, meek, Wells. And the small voice of conscience heard? 3 Have we with cheerful zeal obeyed The thing that was not strictly true? 4 In hard temptation's troubled hour, Then have we stopped to think and pray, That God would give the soul the pow'r To chase the sinful thought away? 5 O Thou! who seest all my heart, FOLLEN. 115 Ballerma. Hummel. The Narrow Path. C. M. 1 THERE is a path that leads to God; All others go astray; 2 It leads straight through this world of sin, But those who boldly walk therein 3 While the broad road where thousands go, Lies near, and opens fair; And many turn aside, we know, To walk with sinners there. 4 But, lest our feeble steps should slide, Lord, condescend to be our guide, Woodstock. 116 Repentance. PORTS. COLL. Stevens. 10 't is a fully and a crime To put religion by ; For now is the accepted time,- 2 Our hearts grow harder every day, 3 Yet sinners trifle, young and old, Then they would give a world of gold, 4 O then, lest we should perish thus, For time will soon be past with us, 117 Penitence. 7's M. "Watchman, tell us,' &c. Pleyel's Hymn. 1 GOD of mercy, God of love, 2 Deep regret for follies past, Talents wasted, time mis-spent ; 3 Foolish fears and fond desires, Vain regrets for things as vain ; 4 These, and every secret fault, Filled with grief, and shame, we own; Humbled at thy feet we lie, Seeking pardon from thy throne. 5 God of mercy, God of grace, O restore thy suppliant race, J. TAYLOR. In the Cottage. 118 Praise. 7's M. 1 PRAISE to God; oh! let us raise Wilmot. Of that goodness let us sing 2 Praise to Him who made the light, 3 Praise Him for our happy hours; 4 For the voice he placed within, 5 Praise the mercy that did send 119 FOLLEN. Wilmot. Praise. 7's M. In the Cottage. 1 GLORY to our heavenly King! 2 God of glory! God of love! 3 More than all we praise thee, Lord, 4 Gracious Father! Heavenly King! Yarmouth. 120 Praise. 7's & 6's M. 1 THE seraphs bright are hovering Atterbury. 2 From earth is daily rising A cloud of praise is rising, Like incense on the breeze. 3 And childhood's voice is chanting |