Longing after God.
MY GOD! permit my tongue
This joy, to call Thee mine;
And let my early cries prevail
To taste Thy love divine.
My thirsty, fainting soul
Thy mercy doth implore;
Not travellers in desert lands
Can pant for water møre.
3 Within Thy churches, LORD, I long to find my place,
Thy power and glory to behold,
And feel Thy quick'ning grace.
For life without thy love
No relish can afford:
No joy can be compar'd to this,
To serve and please the LORD.
To Thee I'll lift mine hands,
And praise Thee while I live; Not the rich dainties of a feast Such food or pleasure give.
6 Since Thou hast been my help,
To Thee my spirit flies,
And on Thy watchful providence
My cheerful hope relies.
Psalm LXV.
Worship of God in His Temple.
1 FOR Thee, O GOD! our constant praise
In Zion waits, Thy chosen seat:
Our promis'd altars there we'll raise,
And all our zealous vows complete.
2 O Thou, who to my humble pray'r
Didst always bend Thy list'ning ear,
To Thee shall all mankind repair,
And at Thy gracious throne appear.
3 Our sins, though numberless, in vain
To stop Thy flowing mercy try;
Whilst Thou o'erlook'st the guilty stain,
And washest out the crimson dye.
4 Blest is the man, who, near Thee plac'd,
Within Thy sacred dwelling lives!
Whilst we, at humbler distance, taste
The vast delights Thy temple gives.
Worship of God in His Temple.
1 WRAPT in silent adoration,
Praise for Thee in Zion waits;
LORD, accept the just oblation,
Offer'd vows in Zion's gates;
O! our God! our pray'r ascending,
Bow to pray'r a list'ning ear,
Till, before Thy throne attending,
All mankind with joy appear.
2 Mourning o'er our great.transgressions,
LORD! behold Thy people pray;
List'ning to our deep confessions,
Purge our num'rous sins away:
Vast their sum!—their numbers failing,
Yet o'er all shall mercy rise;
Mercy, evermore prevailing
Mercy, boundless o'er the skies.
3 Blest are they-how blest in glory!
Ransom'd by Thy sov'reign love,
Who, around Thy throne, adore Thee,
Dwelling in Thy courts above!
Humbly we, at distance bending,
Worship in Thy church below;
But while here, Thy love descending,
Holy joys to transport grow.
General Praise.-Spread of the Gospel.
1 To bless Thy chosen race,
In mercy, LORD, incline;
And cause the brightness of Thy face
On all Thy saints to shine;
2 That so Thy wondrous way
May through the world be known; Whilst distant lands their tribute pay, And Thy salvation own.
Let diff'ring nations join
To celebrate Thy fame;
Let all the world, O LORD, combine
To praise Thy glorious Name.
O! let them shout and sing
With joy and pious mirth;
For Thou, the righteous Judge and King,
Shalt govern all the earth.
Then GOD upon our land
Shall constant blessings show'r;
And all the world in awe shall stand
Of His resistless pow'r.
1 SHINE, mighty GOD, on Britain shine
With beams of heav'nly grace;
Reveal Thy pow'r through all our coasts,
And show Thy smiling face.
2 [Amidst our isle, exalted high,
Do Thou our glory stand,
And, like a wall of guardian fire,
Surround the fav'rite land.]
3 When shall Thy Name, from shore to shore, Sound all the earth abroad,
And distant nations know and love
Their SAVIOUR and their GOD?
4 Sing to the LORD, ye distant lands,
Sing loud with solemn voice;
While British tongues exalt His praise,
And British hearts rejoice.
5 Earth shall obey her Maker's will,
And yield a full increase;
Our GOD will crown His chosen isle,
With fruitfulness and peace.
The Ascension and Triumph of Christ.
1 LORD! when Thou didst ascend on high,
Ten thousand angels fill'd the sky;
Those heav'nly guards around Thee wait,
Like chariots that attend Thy state.
2 Not Sinai's mountain could appear
More glorious, when the LORD was there;
While He pronounc'd His dreadful law,
And struck the chosen tribes with awe.
3 How bright the triumph none can tell,
When the rebellious pow'rs of hell,
That thousand souls had captive made,
Were all in chains like captives led.
4 Rais'd by His FATHER to the throne,
He sent the promis'd SPIRIT down,
With gifts and grace for rebel men,
That GOD might dwell on earth again.
Christ Rising and Interceding..
1 DEEP from His heart the accents pour,
"My GOD, the man of sorrows own!"
He hears Him in the mournful hour,
And sends salvation from His throne.
2 Lo! rising from the conquer'd grave,
"Tis JESUS leads the thankful song;
Let those who feel His pow'r to save
The triumph join, the strain prolong.
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