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2 Forgive me, Lord, for thy dear Son,
The ills which I this day have done;
I, erc I sleep, at peace may be.
The grave as little as my bed :
His watchful station near me keep;
And guard me from th' approach of ill. 5 Lord, let my heart for ever share
The bliss of thy paternal care: 'Tis heav'n on earth, 'tis heav'n above,
To see thy face, and sing thy love.
Why should I be of death afraid?
Tho' he may strike, he cannot harm. 7 For death is life, and labour rest,
If with thy gracious presence blest:
107. The same. (C. M.)
N OW from the altar of our hearts,
Our evening sacrifice.
2 Minutes and mercies multiply'd,
Have made up all this day;
More swift and free than they.
Do a new song require:
Accept our hearts desire.
New time upon our score;
108. The same. (L. M.) 1 SLEEP, downy sleep, come close mine eyes,
Tir'd with beholding vanities ; Welcome, sweet sleep, that drives away
The toils and follies of the day. 2 On thy soft bosom will I lie,
Forget the world, and learn to die;
Thine angel-tents around my bed.
Breaks from the ehambers of the east;
109. The same. (S. M.)
SOFT season of repose,
Thy sable curtains spread ;
Around my weary head.
With which my thoughts have stray
From morn to ev'ning shade.
My soul no more pursue,
But bid the world adieu.
Thy pardon I implore;
And aid me with thy pow'r.
While slumb'ring on my bed ;
The visions of my head.
Salute my waking eyes ;
In grateful songs arise.
Thy service, and thy praise ;
The remnant of my days.
The same. (C. M.)
10 GOD, the hour of sleep's at hand;
My spirit calls for rest;
The dear Redeemer's breast.
2 This night, my longing soul with Christ
Would take up her abode; I would be happily divest,
Of ev'ry thing but God.
3 The nightly watches would I spend,
In fellowship above;
And feast upon his love.
4 While in the hours of deep repose,
My spirit seeks to fly, Where Jesus keeps his heav'nly feast,
And banquets in the sky.
5 When dead unto the world I am,
I'd be alive to God;
Who bought me with his blood.
6 Oh! may I then, of Christ, this night,
Be happily possess'd ;
And Jesus for my guest.
111. The same. (C. M.) 1 THOU Son of God, whose flaming eye
1 Our inmost thoughts perceive ; Accept the ev'ning sacrifice,
Which now to thee we give.
And think ourselves sincere:
Thy real worshipper ?
Nor feels his want of Thee?
His pardon on the tree?
And penitential pain. 5 Speak with that voice which wakes the dea
And bid the sleeper “ rise;"
The death that never dies.
112. A Summer's Morn. (P. M.)
Silent chasing gloom away;