308. C. M. TAYLOR'S Col. JE A Morning Hymn. ESUS, thou all-fuftaining Word, After thy lovely likenefs, Lord, Thou, deareft Lord, thou only art Of all thou haft, on earth below, Fill me with all the life of love, The holy intercourse begun 309. Sevens. BRADFORD'S Col. An Evening Hymn. THOU muft, Lord, my heart prepare, Teach me, therefore, how to pray, With my burden I'd begin; Keep me fafe from harms this night! 310. C. M. M. Another. OW from the altar of our hearts Now Let flames of love arise; Affift us, Lord, to offer up Our evening facrifice. Minutes and mercies multiply'd Have made up all this day; Minutes came quick, but mercies were New time, new favor, and new joys, 'Till we shall praife thee as we would, Accept our hearts defire. Lord of our days, whose hand hath set Thee may we praise for all our time, Morning; or, Evening. God, how endless is thy love! Thy gifts are ev'ry ev'ning new; And morning mercies from above, Gently diftill like early dew. Thou spread'ft the curtain of the night, Lord, may we bow to thy command ! 312. Sevens. Newton Before Prayer. NOME, my foul, thy fuit prepare; COME All thy wants before him lay; Thou art coming to a King; O! do not our fuit difdain, In thy own appointed way, Send fome meffage from thy word, Grant that all may feek and find EAREST Savior, help thy fervant To proclaim thy wond'rous love! Pour thy grace upon this people, That thy truth they may approve Blefs, O blefs them, From thy fhining courts above. Now thy gracious word invites them Let thy Spirit fweetly draw them; Let us find thy promis'd reft. O 315. After Sermon. JESUS, our Lord, For all the rich bleffings convey'd by thy word. In fpirit we trace Thy wonders of grace, And chearfully join in a concert of praise. The ancient of days His glory difplays, And thines on his chofen with cherishing rays. The trumpet of God Is founding abroad" The language of mercy, falvation thro' blood. Thrice happy are they, Who hear and obey, And share in the bleffings of this happy day! Their anguish and smart And forrow depart, Who find his falvation infcrib'd on their heart. This bleffing be mine, Through favor divine; But, O my Redeemer, the glory be thine. The work is of grace; Thine, thine be the praife, And mine to adore thee, and tell of thy ways. |