The Three in One.

I

DR ISAAC WATTS.

GIVE immortal praise

To God the Father's love,
For all my comforts here

And better hopes above;

He sent His own eternal Son

To die for sins that man had done.

To God the Son belongs
Immortal glory too,

Who bought us with His blood

From everlasting woe;

And now He lives, and now He reigns, And sees the fruit of all His pains.

To God the Spirit's name
Immortal worship give,
Whose new-creating power

Makes the dead sinner live;

His work completes the great design, And fills the soul with joy divine.

Almighty God! to Thee

Be endless honours done;

The undivided Three,

And the mysterious One!

Where reason fails with all her powers,

There faith prevails, and love adores.

Hymn to the Holy Spirit.

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Hymn to the Holy Spirit.

THOMAS BURridge.

PRAISE be Thine, most Holy Spirit,

Honour to Thy Holy Name!

May we love it, may we fear it!

Set in everlasting fame.
Honour to Thee, praise, and glory,
Comforter, Inspirer, Friend;
Till these troubles transitory
End in glory without end.

By Thy hand, in secret working,
Like a midnight of soft rain,
Seeds that lay in silence lurking,
Spring up green, and grow amain.
Roots, which in their dusty bosoms
Hid an age of golden days,
Stirring with a cloud of blossoms,
Clothe their barrenness for Thy praise.

As an island in a river,

Vex'd with endless rave and roar,

Keeps an inner silence ever

On its consecrated shore,

Flower'd with flowers, and green with grasses:

So the poor through Thee abide;

Every outer care that passes

Deepening more the peace inside.

When our heart is faint Thou warmest,

Justifiest our delight;

Thou our ignorance informest,

And our wisdom shapest right;

Hope, the weary one, Thou lendest,
In the hour of doubt and strife;
Thou beginnest, and Thou endest,
All that Christians count of life.

Veni Creator Spiritus.

COM

OME, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire,
And lighten with celestial fire;

Thou the anointing Spirit art,

Who dost Thy seven-fold gifts impart :
Thy blessed unction from above,
Is comfort, life, and fire of love;
Enable, with perpetual light,
The dulness of our blinded sight:
Anoint and cheer our soilèd face
With the abundance of Thy grace:

Keep far our foes, give peace at home;
Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come.
Teach us to know the Father, Son,
And Thee, of both, to be but One;
That, through the ages all along,
This may be our endless song;

Praise to Thy eternal merit,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Hymn of Praise.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

HOLY, holy, holy Lord

God of hosts, when heaven and earth

Out of darkness, at Thy word

Issued into glorious birth,

Litany to the Holy Spirit.

All Thy works before Thee stood,
And Thine eye beheld them good,
While they sung with one accord,
Holy, holy, holy Lord!

Holy, holy, holy! Thee

One Jehovah ever more;
Father, Son, and Spirit, we,

Dust and ashes, would adore:
Lightly by the world esteem'd,
From that world by Thee redeem'd,
Sing we here, with glad accord,
Holy, holy, holy Lord!

Holy, holy, holy! all

Heaven's triumphant choir shall sing, When the ransom'd victims fall

At the footstool of their King: Then shall saints and seraphim, Hearts and voices, swell one hymn, Round the throne, with full accord, Holy, holy, holy Lord!

Litany to the Holy Spirit.

ROBERT HERRICK.

N the hour of my distress,

IN

When temptations me oppress,

And when I my sins confess,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

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When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart, and sick in head,
And with doubts disquieted

Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown'd in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

When God knows I'm toss'd about
Either with despair or doubt,

Yet before the glass be out,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

When the tempter me pursueth
With the sins of all my youth,

And reproves me for untruth,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

When the judgment is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was seal'd,
When to Thee I have appeal'd,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me.

God the Spirit.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

SPIRIT of the living God!

In all Thy plenitude of grace,

Where'er the foot of man hath trod,

Descend on our apostate race!