XCIV

Hymn of Thanksgiving for the Pure Faith

THAT Thou Thy servants hast not placed,
To roam by reason's glimmering ray
Through nature's unenlighten'd waste,
Thee, God of love, our thanks we pay!

That Thou with Thy celestial lore
Illumin'st our benighted sight,

To know, confess Thee, and adore,
Our thanks we pay Thee, God of light!

To find Thee, passes reason's reach :
But taught Thy Godhead to discern
Reveal'd, what Thou hast deign'd to teach,

She prompts the humble heart to learn.

O may no love of worldly joys,

Or worldly cares, Thy truth neglect ; Nor human wisdom's specious toys,

Nor pride of human power reject!

For Thou hast said, and we receive
Thy word as law, Thy will as fate,
Who will Thy Gospel not believe,

On him Thy penal doom shall wait.

God, in whose name by mystic sign
Baptized Thy saints Thy faith confess,

To keep us in Thy faith be Thine,
Be ours Thy triune name to bless!

To Thee, whom all Thy saints adore,
Thy Church below, Thy heavenly host,

Be blessing, honour, glory, power,

Thee, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!

XCV

Hymn commendatory of Faith and Good

Works

IN God's own garden stands a tree,

Fast fix'd in earth its root,

Bathed in heav'n's dews, and fair to see, And charged with goodly fruit.

Like that fair tree's no fruitage grows,
So pleasant and so good:

What else a specious semblance shows,
Affords no wholesome food.

But should that tree unfruitful wax
Of good, like thorn or brier,

'Tis doom'd to feel the hewer's axe,

And feed the vengeful fire.

The tree that God's own garden breeds,

Faith is that goodly tree :

The fruits, it genders, are the deeds

Of Christian charity.

God, may Thy Church, that cultured field Which Thou hast fenced around,

Such trees in rich profusion yield,

With such good fruit abound.

For deeds, though fair, Thou wilt not own, Save of Thy Spirit bred;

And faith, unfruitful and alone,

By Thee is counted dead.

XCVI

Hymn of Thanksgiving for Spiritual

Instructors

WE thank Thee for the truths, O Lord,
Which Thy unerring rolls record ;
Nor less we thank Thee for the aid,
By Thine appointed guides convey'd.

Apt are those rolls the steps to lead,
That ofttimes he who runs may read ;
Yet oft awaits a harder part,

The mind unlearn'd, the unstable heart.

Not vain the tale, by Thee enroll'd,

Of that illustrious student told,

By Philip's sapient teaching won
To see and own Thy promised Son.