967

C. M.

A blessing supplicated.

GOD, though countless worlds of light
Thy power and glory show,--

Though round thy throne, above all height,
Immortal seraphs glow,-

2 Yet, Lord, where'er thy saints apart
Are met for praise and prayer,-
Wherever sighs a contrite heart,
Thou, gracious God, art there.
3 With grateful joy, thy children rear
This temple, Lord, to thee;

Long may they sing thy praises here,
And here thy beauty see.

4 Here, Saviour, deign thy saints to meet; With peace their hearts to fill;

And here, like Sharon's odours sweet,
May grace divine distil.

5 Here may thy truth fresh triumphs win; Eternal Spirit, here,

In many a heart now dead in sin,

A living temple rear.

968

NOT

Jehovah's presence.

L. M.

OT heaven's wide range of hallow'd space
Jehovah's presence can confine;

Nor angels' claims restrain his grace,
Whose glories through creation shine.
2 It beam'd on Eden's guilty days,
And traced redemption's wondrous plan;
From Calvary, in brightest rays,

It glow'd to guide benighted man.
3 Its sacred shrine it fixes there,
Where two or three are met to raise
Their holy hands in humble prayer,

Or tune their hearts to grateful praise.

4 Be this, O Lord, that honour'd place,The house of God, the gate of heaven; And may the fulness of thy grace

To all who here shall meet be given. 5 And hence, in spirit, may we soar

To those bright courts where seraphs bend; With awe like theirs, on earth adore,

Till with their anthems ours shall blend.

969

The tokens of His grace.

AND will the great eternal God

On earth establish his abode ? And will he, from his radiant throne, Accept our temples for his own?

L. M.

2 These walls we to thy honour raise;
Long may they echo with thy praise:
And thou, descending, fill the place
With choicest tokens of thy grace.
3 Here let the great Redeemer reign,
With all the graces of his train;
While power divine his word attends,
To conquer foes, and cheer his friends.
4 And in the great decisive day,
When God the nations shall survey,
May it before the world appear
That crowds were born to glory here.

970

L. M

An humble offering to Jehovah.
HE perfect world, by Adam trod,
Was the first temple built by God;

THE

His fiat laid the corner-stone;

He spake, and lo! the work was done.
2 He hung its starry roof on high,
The broad expanse of azure sky;

He spread its pavement, green and bright,
And curtain'd it with morning light.

3 The mountains in their places stood,
The sea, the sky; and all was good;
And when its first pure praises rang,
The morning stars together sang.

4 Lord, 'tis not ours to make the sea,
And earth, and sky, a house for thee;
But in thy sight our off'ring stands,
An humble temple built with hands.

971

9th P. M. 87, 87, 87, 81.
For the dedication of a seamen's Bethel.
HOU, who on the whirlwind ridest,
At whose word the thunder roars,

THOU

Who in majesty presidest

O'er the oceans and their shores; From those shores, and from the ocean, We, the children of the sea,

Come to offer our devotion,

And to give this house to thee.

2 When, for business on great waters,
We go down to sea in ships,
And our weeping sons and daughters
Hang, at parting, on our lips;
This our Bethel shall remind us
That Jehovah heareth prayer;
And that those we leave behind us
Are thy faithful church's care.

3 When in port, each day that's holy
To this house we'll press in throngs;

When at sea, with spirit lowly,

We'll repeat its sacred songs. Outward bound, shall we, in sadness, Lose its flag behind the seas; Homeward bound, we'll greet with gladness Its first floating on the breeze.

1 Homeward bound!-with deep emotion, We remember, Lord, that life Is a voyage o'er an ocean

Heaved by many a tempest's strife.
Be thy statutes so engraven

On our hearts and minds, that we,
Anchoring in death's quiet haven,
All may make our home with thee.

972

MISSIONARY.

L. M.

Souls perishing for lack of knowledge. SHEPHERD of souls, with pitying eye The thousands of our Israel see;

SH

To thee in their behalf we cry,

Ourselves but newly found in thee.

2 See where o'er desert wastes they err, And neither food nor feeder have, Nor fold, nor place of refuge near,

For no man cares their souls to save.

3 Thy people, Lord, are sold for naught,
Nor know they their Redeemer nigh;
They perish, whom thyself hast bought;
Their souls for lack of knowledge die.

4 The pit its mouth hath open'd wide,
To swallow up its careless prey:
Why should they die, when thou hast died—
Hast died to bear their sins away?

5 Why should the foe thy purchase seize?
Remember, Lord, thy dying groans:
The meed of all thy suff'rings these;
O claim them for thy ransom'd ones!

973

FROM

26th P. M. 76, 76, 76, 76. The cry of the heathen.

ROM Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand;
Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver

Their land from error's chain.

2 What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile:
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.

3 Shall we, whose souls are lighted
With wisdom from on high,
Shall we to men benighted
The lamp of life deny?
Salvation!-O salvation!

The joyful sound proclaim,
Till earth's remotest nation
Has learn'd Messiah's name.

4 Waft, waft, ye winds, his story,
And you, ye waters, roll,
Till, like a sea of glory,

It spreads from pole to pole:
Till o'er our ransom'd nature
The Lamb for sinners slain,
Redeemer, King, Creator,
In bliss returns to reign.