Then let me love my Bible more, And take a fresh delight By day to read these wonders o'er, And meditate by night. WATTS. THE SABBATH. ORD of the Sabbath, hear our vows, The songs which from the desert rise. Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love; To that our labouring souls aspire, No more fatigue, no more distress, No rude alarms of raging foes- O long expected day, begin; Dawn on these realms of woe and sin; DODDRIDGE. Sabbath Morning. 363 SABBATH MORNING. EAR is the hallowed morn to me, When village bells awake the day: And, by their sacred minstrelsy, Call me from earthly cares away. And dear to me the winged hour, Spent in thy hallowed courts, O Lord! And catch the Manna of thy word. And dear to me the loud Amen, And dear the rustic harmony, Sung with the pomp of village art; The music of a thankful heart. In secret I have often prayed, And still the anxious tear would fall; But on thy sacred altar laid, The fire descends and dries them all. Oft when the world, with iron hands, Has bound me in its six days' chain, And lets my spirit loose again. Then dear to me the Sabbath morn, The village bells, the shepherd's voice; These oft have found my heart forlorn, Go, man of pleasure, strike thy lyre, CUNNINGHAM. SABBATH EVENING. S there a time when moments flow, A Sabbath eve in summer tide. O then the setting sun smiles fair, And all below, and all above, The different forms of nature wear, One universal garb of love. And then the peace that Jesus beams, Delightful scene! a world at rest, If heaven be ever felt below, The Time for Prayer. May cause a heart on earth to know Delightful hour! how soon will night Yet will there dawn at last the day, 365 EDMESTON. THE TIME FOR PRAYER. O, when the morning shineth, Go, when the noon is bright; Go, in the hush of night; Remember all who love thee, Thy great Redeemer's name. Or, if 'tis e'er denied thee In solitude to pray, Should holy thoughts come o'er thee, Thy spirit sends above, Will reach his throne of glory, Who is Mercy, Truth, and Love. Oh, not a joy nor blessing With this can we compare, The power that He has given us His love who gave thee all. ANON. THE HOUR FOR PRAYER. HILD amidst the flowers at play, Mother, with thine earnest eye Ever following silently; Father, by the breeze of eve, Traveller, in the stranger's land, Of a voice from this world gone ; |