Gracious, good, and tender!
Leave me not, but ever love me:
Let thy peace
Be my bliss,
'Till thou hence remove me.
Visit me with thy salvation:
Let thy care
Still be near,
Round my habitation.
Be my rock, my guard, my tower:
Safely keep,
While I sleep,
Me with all thy pow'r.
So, whene'er in death I slumber,
I shall rise
With the wise,
Counted in their number.
WHAT tho' my frail eye-lids refuse
Continual watching to keep,
And, punctual as midnight renews,
Demand the refreshment of sleep:
A sov'reign Protector I have,
Unseen, yet for ever at hand,
Unchangeably faithful to save,
Almighty to rule and command.
From evil secure, and its dread,
I rest, if my Saviour is nigh,
And songs his kind presence indeed,
Shall in the night-season supply:
He smiles, and my comforts abound,
His grace as the dew shall descend,
And walls of salvation surround
The soul he delights to defend.
Kind Author and Ground of my hope,
Thee, thee, for my God I avow;
My glad Ebenezer set up,
And own thou hast help'd me 'till now. I muse on the years that are past,
Wherein my defence thou hast prov'd; Nor wilt thou relinquish at last, A sinner so signally lov'd.
Inspirer and Hearer of pray'r,
Thou Feeder and Guardian of thine,
My all to thy covenant-care
I, sleeping and waking, resign!
If thou art my shield and my sun,
The night is no darkness to me;
And, fast as my moments roll on,
They bring me but nearer to thee.
425. Evening.
Now, from the altar of our hearts,
Let flames of love arise;
Assist us, Lord, to offer up
Our ev'ning sacrifice.
Awake our love, awake our joy,
Awake our heart and tongue;
Sleep not when mercies loudly call,
Break forth into a song.
Minutes and mercies multiply'd,
Have made up all this day;
Minutes come quick, but mercies were
More fleet and free than they.
New time, new favour, and new joys,
Do a new song require;
'Till we shall praise thee as we would,
Accept our heart's desire.
Lord of our days, whose hand hath set
New time upon our score,
Thee may we praise for all our time,
When time shall be no more.
426. For Charity Children.
GREAT Shepherd of thy little fold,
Whose goodness infants did behold,
Regard, nor fainting let us weep,
Enfold and feed us with thy sheep.
Like sheep we all have gone astray,
Have turn'd to ev'ry devious way;
But, bearing the tremendous cost,
Thou cam'st to seek, and save, the lost!
Thy lib'ral bounty wide extends,
'Tis thy kind arm our cause defends;
That infants poor thy praise may chaunt,
While grace supplies their ev'ry want.
Thy grace prevents thy people's need,
And us, thy lambs, by them dost feed;
That we might raise our grateful voice,
While angels round thy throne rejoice.
What shall we render to thee, Lord?
We'll praise thy name with one accord;
Accept the tribute of our love,
'Till rais'd to nobler praise above.
Now may thy bounteous mercy shine,
Fire ev'ry breast with love divine,
And, while that love our need supplies,
Prepare for them eternal joys.
Praise God, from whom all blessings flow,
Praise him, all creatures here below;
Praise him above, ye heav'nly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
427. For Charity Children. CAN the fond mother, form'd to prove How strong the parent's bond of love, Her helpless babe forego?
Can she, whom nature prompts to bless,
Affection's tender claim suppress,
Nor pitying care bestow?
Frail nature may her charge decline,
But still compassion, Lord, is thine,
Propitious, as thou art:
While life's afflictive vale we tread,
'Tis thine to raise the drooping head,
And heal the broken heart.
Thou the good Shepherd, kind to feed
Thy ransom'd flock, and gently lead
The child of low estate;
Make streams of charity abound;
While we thy grace and love resound,
And thus thy praise relate.
For Charity Children.
COME, Holy Spirit, from above;
Impart thy gifts of grace and love;
Teach us sweet charity to prize
Above all gifts of earth and skies;
For this will shine when life is o'er,
And faith and hope shall be no more.
Tho' seraphs tune our rapt'rous song,
Tho' angel-wisdom prompt the tongue,
Tho' lively hope the soul inspire,
And faith preserve the hallow'd fire,
Unless sweet charity shall reign,
Our gifts will be unblest and vain.
But lo! what tender acts of love
This gentle spirit aims to prove;
Instruction's mildest form she wears;
Yon infant poor proclaim her cares,
In decent ranks prepar'd to raise
Their humble suit in pray'r and praise.
- O pious task! O precious gift!
By which the lowliest soul can lift
Its views above this earthly clod,
To know its Saviour and its God:.
May all the pious labour join!
feach us, Lord, this love divine!
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