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For, though from out our bourne of time and place The flood may bear

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I hope to

see my Pi · lot face to face When I have crost the

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4 For, though from out our bourne of time and place

The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

Alfred Tennyson, 1889

451

The Old and New Dear MORNING HYMN L. M.

François H. Barthélémon, 1789

:)

ter

nal Source of

'ry joy! Well may Thy praise our lips

еу

em - ploy,

14 4

While in Thy tem - ple we

ap-pear, Whose goodness crowns the circling year. A - men.

1 ETERNAL Source of every joy!

Well may Thy praise our lips employ,
While in Thy temple we appear,

Whose goodness crowns the circling year.
2 Wide as the wheels of nature roll,

Thy hand supports the steady pole;
The sun is taught by Thee to rise,

And darkness when to veil the skies.
3 The flowery spring at Thy command

Embalms the air and paints the land;
The summer rays with vigor shine

To raise the corn and cheer the vine
4 Thy hand in autumn richly pours

Through all our coasts redundant stores;
And winters, softened by Thy care,

No more a face of horror wear.
5 Seasons and months and weeks and days

Demand successive songs of praise;
Still be the cheerful homage paid

With opening light and evening shade.
6 Here in Thy house shall incense rise,

As circling Sabbaths bless our eyes;
Still will we make Thy mercies known
Around Thy board and round our own.

Philip Doddridge, 1702-1751

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1 GREAT God,

we sing that mighty hand By which supported still we stand; The opening year Thy mercy shows;

That mercy crowns it till it close.
2 By day, by night, at home, abroad,

Still we are guarded by our God;
By His incessant bounty fed,

By His unerring counsel led.
3 With grateful hearts the past we own;

The future, all to us unknown,
We to Thy guardian care commit,

And peaceful leave before Thy feet. 4 In scenes exalted or depressed,

Thou art our Joy, and Thou our Rest;
Thy goodness all our hopes shall raise,

Adored through all our changing days.
5 When death shall interrupt these songs,

And seal in silence mortal tongues;
Our Helper God, in whom we trust,
In better worlds our souls shall boast.

Philip Doddridge, 1702-1751

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We

a

lit - tle lon - ger wait,

But how lit - tle

1

WHILE

HILE with ceaseless course the sun

none can

know,

A-men.

Swiftly thus our fleeting days

Bear us down life's rapid stream; Upward, Lord, our spirits raise,

All below is but a dream.

Hasted through the former year, Many souls their race have run,

Never more to meet us here: Fixed in an eternal state,

They have done with all below: We a little longer wait,

But how little none can know.

2 As the winged arrow flies

Speedily the mark to find,
As the lightning from the skies

Darts, and leaves no trace behind

3 Thanks for mercies past receive;

Pardon of our sins renew;
Teach us henceforth how to live

With eternity in view;
Bless Thy word to young and old;

Fill us with a Saviour's love;
And when life's short tale is told,
May we dwell with Thee above.

John Newton, 1774

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