AN

HYMN OF PRAISE.

I WILL SING OF MERCY."

COME, Oh! my soul, awake! awake and sing;
Come tune thy harp to sweetest, softest lays:
Record the wonders of thy God and king,
And offer up a song of grateful praise.

Praise waits for thee, at humble distance waits; Conscious how far she falls beneath thy throne: Fain would she soar beyond the heav'nly gates, And make thy triumphs to archangels known.

O, for the wings of holy joy and love,
To bear her adorations up to thee!
O, for the whispers of the sacred dove,

To bring thy approbation down to me.

I sing of mercy....'tis a theme divine!

It flows to me thro' streams of precious blood: Rich are thy blessings; but they brightest shine, As purchas'd by thy death, my Saviour-God.

Late, thro' a painful path my journey lay;
High blew the whirlwind, while the storm arose;
Black clouds, tempestuous, overhung the day,
And all was anguish, all was gloom and foes.

With trembling steps I travell'd thro' the shade,
And oft, affrighted by the lion's roar,

To thee, my God, my king, I flew for aid,
And found my mighty refuge in thy power.

Thine arm supported, while the tempest blew ;
Thy gracious eye pervaded all my grief;
Thou wisely guided, kindly brought me through,
And flew on eagle's wings to my relief.

The thunder's o'er, and all's serenely calm! Hush'd to sweet peace, the floods no longer beat; This is the triumph of Immanuel's arm!

I fall astonish'd at his gracious feet.

My Father and my God, to thee I'll sing
Eternal anthems of unbounded praise;
Myself, my all, an humble off'ring bring

To thee, the God of providence and grace.

O, for a thousand hearts to love thy name!
A thousand tongues to sound thy glories high;
To spread abroad thine everlasting fame,
And join the hallelujahs of the sky.

Faithful and true is thy tremendous name,
My glorious master, my almighty Lord!

Eternal ages prove thee still the same;
Eternal ages shall thy truth record.

On thee, the ocean of unbounded love,

My soul embarks her all, commits to thee Her cares, her fears, her wants, and longs to prove An everlasting refuge, Lord, in thee.

On thy kind bosom I would fain recline,

My Saviour-God. O, let thy presence cheer! Thy Spirit guide, and guard, and seal me thine : Lead and direct me while I sojourn here.

Then in the realms of bright celestial day,
My soul shall bless thee in sublimer lays;
Shall see thy glories in their full display,

And sing a sweeter, nobler song of praise.

AN

IRREGULAR ODE.

GREAT king of saints!

Thou mighty monarch of the heavens and earth, Whose awful fiat gave creation birth;

Whose arm supports, whose eye surveys

An universe, through all the maze

Of ages past, of ages still to be....'

The future and the past, are now to thee.

Conception faints

When viewing an omniscient deity.

Ye sons of light,

Angels who bow before the throne,

Tune your soft harps and make him known;

In lofty strains adore your God.

And saints, the purchase of his blood,

Ransom'd sinners, join the theme;
You delight to sing of him;
We on earth, and you in heav'n :
We to whom his grace is giv'n;
Earnest of the glorious prize,
You enjoy above the skies;
Children of one Father, join,
Him to laud, in songs divine:

God of nature, God of grace,

We would give thee humble praise:
Jesus, hail! incarnate God,

Thou hast wash'd us in thy blood.

Prince of peace, we bow to thee,
Father of eternity.

Hail the love that made us thine!
Love eternal, all divine.

Hail our fathers' God and ours;
Aid us, O ye heav'nly pow'rs;
Strike your softest, sweetest string,
While redeeming love we sing;
While we bless the holy dove,
God of comfort, peace and love;
Three in one, and one in three,

Hail! mysterious deity.

Thou great unsearchable,

Whom heav'n and earth, whom seas and skies adore, But finite understandings can't explore ;

Who dwell'st in brightness inaccessible !

Thy glories shine in beams so bright,

Dazzling archangels' sight.

My Father and my God!

How empires vanish at a sight of thee:
What's all their pomp, but trifling trash to me?
My wealth is boundless, my stupendous store
Beggars Peru; thought cannot grasp at more.
With thee my portion, I despise the things
Men riches call, and look with scorn on kings.