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Character of Christ 1. Benold, where, in a mortal form,
Appears each grace divine: The virtres, all in Jesus met,
With mildest radiance shine.
Inspir'd his holy breast;
His kindness was exprest.
To give the mourner joy,
Was his divine employ.
A friend and servant found;
And heald each bleeding wound.
Patient and meek he stood :
He labour'd for their good.
Before his Father's throne,
• Thy will, not mine, be done !!
His image may I bear!
And his bright glories share !
Gratitude to the Supremo Being 1. How cheerful along the gay mead,
The daisy and cowslip appear! The flocks, as they carelessly feed,
Rejoice in the spring of the year. & The myrtles that shade the gay bow'rs,
The herbage that springs from the sod, Trees, plants, cooling fruits, and sweet flow'rs
All rise to the praise of my God. 3. Shall man, the great master of all,
The only insensible prove ? Forbid it, fair Gratitude's call !
Forbid it, devotion and love!
And still can destroy with a nod,
My heart shall rejoice in my God.
Acknowledgment of Divine favours 1. WHENE'ER I take my walks abroad,
How many poor I see !
For all his gifts to me!
Yet God has giv'n me more,
Or beg from door to door.
Half naked, I behold!
And cover'd from the colu!
4. While some poor creatures scarce can teil,
Where they may lay their head, I have a home wherein to dwell,
And rest upon my bed.
And curse, and lie, and steal,
And do thy holy will.
To me above the rest?
And try to serve thee best.
The excellence of the Bible.
On all thy works I look;
Shine brightest in thy book.
Have much instruction giyin; But thy good word informs my soul
How I may get to heav'n. 3. The fields provide me food, and show
The goodness of the Lord; But fruits of life and glory grow
In thy most holy word. 4 Here are my choicest treasures hid,
Here my best comfort lies; Here my desires are satisfied,
And hence my hopes arise. 6 Lord ! make me understand thy law ;
Show what my faults have been; And from thy gespel let me draw.
Pardon for all my sin. 6. For here I learn how Jesus died,
To save my soul from hell : Not all the books on earth beside
Such heav'nly wonders tell.
7. Then let me love
On Industry. 1. How does the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour; And gather honey all the day,
From every op’ning flow'r! 2. How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax ! And labours hard to store it well,
With the sweet food she makes. 8. In works of labour, or of skill,
I would be busy too:
For idle hands to do.
years That I may give for ev'ry day
Some good account at last.
On early rising
And slumber in the morning light !
Proclaims the entrance of the day.
Along the dewy lawn to rove,
The drowning fly.
And lightly gambols in the golden ray.
For you, perhaps, a nobler task's decreed ::
To a Redbreast.