Thy will be done-since 'tis thy glory's due, Did from mine eyes the endless torrents flow; Smite-it is time-though endless death ensue,

I bless the avenging hand that lays me low. But on what spot shall fall thine anger's flood, That has not first been drench'd in Christ's atoning blood?

HYMN.

The Lord our God is clothed with might,
The winds obey his will;

He speaks, and in his heavenly height,
The rolling sun stands still.

Rebel, ye waves-and o'er the land

With threatening aspect roar!
The Lord uplifts his awful hand,
And chains you to the shore.

Howl, winds of night! your force combine!
Without his high behest,

Ye shall not, in the mountain pine,
Disturb the sparrow's nest.

His voice sublime is heard afar,
In distant peals it dies;

'He yokes the whirlwinds to his car,
And sweeps the howling skies.

Ye nations, bend-in reverence bend;
Ye monarchs, wait his nod,
And bid the choral song ascend

To celebrate our God.

HYMN.

THE Lord our God is Lord of all,
His station who can find?
I hear him in the waterfall!
I hear him in the wind!

If in the gloom of night I shroud,
His face I cannot fly;
I see him in the evening cloud,
And in the morning sky.

He lives, he reigns in every land,
From winter's polar snows

To where, across the burning sand,
The blasting meteor glows!

He smiles, we live; he frowns, we die;
We hang upon his word :-

He rears his red right arm on high,
And ruin bares the sword.

He bids his blasts the fields deform-
Then when his thunders cease,
Sits like an angel 'mid the storm,
And smiles the winds to peace!

HYMN.

THROUGH Sorrow's night, and danger's path,
Amid the deepening gloom,
We, soldiers of an injured King,

Are marching to the tomb.

There, when the turmoil is no more,
And all our powers decay,

Our cold remains in solitude
Shall sleep the years away.

Our labors done, securely laid
In this our last retreat,
Unheeded, o'er our silent dust

The storms of life shall beat.

Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane,

The vital spark shall lie,

For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise
To see its kindred sky.

These ashes too, this little dust,

Our Father's care shall keep, Till the last angel rise, and break The long and dreary sleep.

Then love's soft dew o'er every eye
Shall shed its mildest rays,

And the long silent dust shall burst
With shouts of endless praise.

HYMN.

A FRAGMENT.

MUCH in sorrow, oft in woe,
Onward, Christians, onward go,
Fight the fight, and worn with strife,
Steep with tears the bread of life.

Onward, Christians, onward go,
Join the war, and face the foe;
Faint not! much doth yet remain,
Dreary is the long campaign.

Shrink not, Christians; will ye yield?
Will ye quit the painful field?

CHRISTIANS! brethren! ere we part,
Join every voice and every heart;
One solemn hymn to God we raise,
One final song of grateful praise.

Christians! we here may meet no more,
But there is yet a happier shore;
And there, released from toil and pain,
Brethren, we shall meet again.

HYMN.

THROUGH Sorrow's night, and danger's path,

Amid the deepening gloom, We, soldiers of an injured King, Are marching to the tomb.

There, when the turmoil is no more,
And all our powers decay,

Our cold remains in solitude
Shall sleep the years away.

Our labors done, securely laid
In this our last retreat,
Unheeded, o'er our silent dust

The storms of life shall beat.

Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane,
The vital spark shall lie,

For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise
To see its kindred sky.

These ashes too, this little dust,

Our Father's care shall keep, Till the last angel rise, and break The long and dreary sleep.

Then love's soft dew o'er every eye
Shall shed its mildest rays,

And the long silent dust shall burst

With shouts of endless praise.