Nor let thy fury grow so hot,
Against poor feeble worms.
7 O! hear when dust and ashes speak,
And pity all our pain ;
O! save us, for thy mercy's sake,
And send us health again !
HYMN 110. С. М.
Thanksgiving for Victory.
O thee, who reign'st supreme above,
And reign'st supreme below,
Thou God of wisdom, pow'r, and love,
We our successes owe.
2 The thund'ring horse, the martial band
Without thine aid were vain ;
And vict'ry flies at thy command
To crown the bright campaign.
3 Thy mighty arm, unseen, was nigh,
When we our foes assail'd;
'Tis thou hast rais'd our honours high,
And o'er their hosts prevail'd.
4 Their mounds, their camps, their lofty tow'rs
Into our hands are giv'n;
Not from desert nor strength of ours,
But thro' the grace of heav'n.
5 The Lord of hosts, our helper lives;
His name be ever blest:
"Tis his own arm the vict'ry gives: He grants his people rest.
HYMN 111. L. M.
Thanksgiving for national Peace.
GREAT Ruler
of the earth and skies,
word of thine almighty breath
Can sink the world, or bid it rise :
Thy smile is life, thy frown is death.
3 When angry nations rush to arms,
And rage, and noise, and tumult reign;
And war resounds its dire alarms,
And slaughter spreads the hostile plains;
3 Thy Sov'reign eye looks calmly down,
And marks their course, and bounds their
Thy word the angry nations own,
[pow'r:
And noise and war are heard no more.
4 Then peace returns with balmy wing,
Sweet peace! with her what blessings fled !
Glad plenty laughs, the vallies sing,
Reviving commerce lifts her head.
3 Thou good, and wise, and righteous Lord,
All move subservient to thy will;
And peace and war await thy word,
And thy sublime decrees fulfil.
6 To thee we pay our grateful songs,
Thy kind protection still implore ;
O may our hearts, and lives, and tongues,
Confess thy goodness and adore !
HYMN 112. С. М.
Thanksgiving for health after Pestilence.
OV'REIGN of life, we own thy hand
In this late chast'ning stroke;
And, since we've smarted by thy rod,
Thy presence we invoke.
2 To thee in our distress we cried,
And thou hast bow'd thine ear;
The pestilence thou hast remov'd,
And brought deliv'rance near.
3 Unfold, ye gates of righteousness;
That, with the pious throng,
We may record our solemn vows,
And tune our grateful song.
4 Praise to the Lord, who staid the sword
And said, " it is enough;"
Praise to the Lord, who makes his saints
Triumphant e'en in death.
5 Our God, in thine appointed hour
Those heav'nly gates display,
Where pain, and sickness, fear and death
For ever flee away.
6 There, while the nations of the bless'd,
With raptures bow around,
Our anthems to deliv'ring grace,
In sweeter strains shall sound.
HYMN 113. С. М.
Complaint and hope in Siokness.
TORD, I am pain'd; but I resign
My body to thy will :
'Tis grace, 'tis wisdom all divine,
Appoints the pains I feel.
2 Dark are thy ways of providence,
While they, who love thee, groan:
Thy reasons lie conceal'd from sense,
Mysterious and unknown.
3 Yet nature may have leave to speak,
And plead before her God,
Lest the o'erburden'd heart should break
Beneath thy heavy rod.
4 These mournful groans and flowing tears,
Give my poor spirit ease:
While ev'ry groan my Father hears,
And ev'ry tear he sees.
5 Is not some smiling hour at hand
With health upon its wings?
Give it, O God, thy swift command,
With all the joys it brings.
HYMN 114. С. М.
Praise for recovery from Sickness.
Y God, thy service well demands
The remnant of my days;
Why was this fleeting breath renew'd,
But to renew thy praise ?
2 Thine arms of everlasting love
Did this weak frame sustain;
When life was hov'ring o'er the grave,
And nature sunk with pain.
3 Calmly I bow'd my fainting head
On thy dear faithful breast;
Pleas'd to obey my Father's call
To his eternal rest.
4 Into thy hands, my Saviour-God,
Did I my soul resign:
In firm dependence on that truth,
Which made salvation mine.
5 Back from the borders of the grave,
At thy command I come :
Nor will I urge a speedier flight,
To my celestial home.
6 Where thou determin'st mine abode,
There would I choose to be;
For in thy presence death is life,
And earth is heav'n with thee.
HYMN 115. S. M.
1 THY bounties, gracious Lord, With gratitude we own: We bless thy providential grace,
Which show'rs its blessings down.
2 With joy the people bring
Their off 'rings round thy throne;
With thankful souls behold we pay
A tribute of thy own.
3 Accept this humble mite
Great Sov'reign Lord of all ;
Nor let our num'rous mingling sins,
The fragrant ointment spoil.
4 Let a Redeemer's blood
Diffuse its virtues wide;
Hallow and cleanse our ev'ry gift,
And all our follies hide.
5 O may this sacrifice
To thee the Lord ascend,
An odour of a sweet perfume,
Presented by his hand.
6 Well pleas'd our God shall view
The products of his grace;
And in a plentiful reward
Fulfil his promises.
HYMN 116. L. M.
1 THE gold and silver are the Lord's, And ev'ry blessing earth affords ;
All come from his propitious hand,
And must return at his command.
2 The blessings which I now enjoy,
I must for Christ and souls employ;
For if I use them as my own,
My Lord will soon call in his loan.
3 When I to him in want apply,
He never does my suit deny;
And shall I then refuse to give,
Since I so much from him receive ?
4 Shall Jesus leave the realms of day,
And clothe himself in humble clay?
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