I How pleasing is Thy voice
O Lord our heavenly King,
That bids the frost retire,

And wakes the lovely spring.
The rains return, the ice distils,
And plains and hills forget to mourn.

2 The morn, with glory crowned, Thy hand arrays in smiles; Thou bid'st the eve decline,

Rejoicing o'er the hills;

Soft suns ascend, the mild wind blows,
And beauty glows to earth's far end.

3 Thou mak'st the pastures green,
Thou call'st the flocks abroad;
The springing corn proclaims
The footsteps of our God:
Both bird and beast partake Thy care,
And happy share the general feast.

4 Thy showers make soft the fields; On every side, behold The ripening harvests wave

Their loads of richest gold: The laborers sing with cheerful voice, And, blest, rejoice in God their King.

5 With life He clothes the spring ;

The earth with summer warms; He spreads the autumnal feast, And rides in wintry storms: His gifts divine through all appear, And round the year His glories shine.

DOXOLOGY.

To God the Father's throne,

Perpetual honors raise,
Glory to God the Son,

And to the Spirit praise:
With all our powers, Eternal King,
Thy name we sing, while faith adores.

I OUR God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,

And our eternal home;

2 Under the shadow of Thy throne Thy saints have dwelt secure ; Sufficient is Thine arm alone,

And our defence is sure.

3 Before the hills in order stood,

Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting Thou art God,
To endless years the same.

4 Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.

5 Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,

Be thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home!

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I THEE we adore, Eternal Name,

And humbly own to Thee
How feeble is our mortal frame,

What dying worms are we!

2 The year rolls round, and steals away The breath that first it gave; Whate'er we do, where'er we be,

We're traveling to the grave.

3 Great God, on what a slender thread Hang everlasting things!

The eternal state of all the dead
Upon life's feeble strings!

4 Infinite joy, or endless woe,

Attends on every breath;
And yet how unconcerned we go
Upon the brink of death.

5 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense,
To walk this dangerous road;
And if our souls are hurried hence,
May they be found with God!

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I AWAKE, ye saints, and raise your eyes,
And raise your voices high;
Awake, and praise that Sovereign Love
That shows salvation nigh.

2 On all the wings of time it flies;
Each moment brings it near:
Then, welcome each declining day!
Welcome each closing year!

3 Not many years their rounds shall run, Nor many mornings rise,

Ere all its glories stand revealed
To our admiring eyes.

4 Ye wheels of nature, speed your course! Ye mortal powers, decay!

Fast as ye bring the night of death,
Ye bring eternal day.

4 The arrow is flown,

The moment is gone,

The millennial year

4 A country of joy Without any alloy, We thither repair;