2 Thou art gone to the grave; we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may hope, since the Savior hath died.

3 Thou art gone to the grave; and, its mansion forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in doubt lingered long; But the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on thy waking, And the sound thou didst hear was the seraphim's

song.

4 Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee;

Since God was thy Refuge, thy Guardian, thy Guide; He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore thee; And death has no sting, since the Savior hath died.

249.

C. P. M.

EPISCOPAL COL.

On Western Missions.

1 WHEN, Lord, to this our western land,
Led by thy providential hand,

Our wandering fathers came,

Their ancient homes, their friends in youth,
Sent forth the heralds of thy truth,

To keep them in thy name.

2 Then, through our solitary coast,
The desert features soon were lost;
Thy temples there arose;

Our shores, as culture made them fair,
Were hallowed by thy rites, by prayer,
And blossomed as the rose.

3 And, O, may we repay this debt
To regions, solitary yet,

Within our spreading land!

There, brethren from our common home,
Still westward, like our fathers, roam,
Still guided by thy hand.

4 Savior, we own this debt of love; O, shed thy Spirit from above,

To move each Christian breast, Till heralds shall thy truth proclaim, And temples rise, to fix thy name, Through all our desert west!

250.

7 & 6s M.

BP. HEBER.

Missionary Hymn.

1 FROM Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver

Their land from error's chain.

2 What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle;
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain, with lavish kindness,
The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen in his blindness

Bows down to wood and stone.

3 Shall we, whose souls are lighted
By wisdom from on high,
Shall we to men benighted
The lamp of life deny?
Salvation! O, salvation!

The joyful sound proclaim,
Till each remotest nation
Has learned Messiah's name.

1

Purposes on beginning a New Year.
My few revolving years,

How swift they glide away!
How short the term of life appears!

When past but as a day!

-

2 A dark and cloudy day,
Clouded by grief and sin;
A host of enemies without,
Distressing fears within.

3 Lord, through another year
If thou permit my stay,
With diligence may I pursue
The true and living way!

252.

7s M. J. NEWTON.

Swiftness of Time. New Year.

1 WHILE, with ceaseless course, the sun

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 wingéd arrow flies,
Speedily the mark to find;
As the lightning from the skies
Darts, and leaves no trace behind;
Swiftly thus our fleeting days
Bear us down life's rapid stream;
Upward, Lord, our spirits raise;
All below is but a dream.

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 Savior's love;
And, when life's short tale is told,
May we dwell with thee above.

253.

L. M.

DODDRIDGE.

For the Beginning or End of the Year.

1 My Helper, God! I bless his name: The same his power, his grace the same: The tokens of his friendly care

Open, and crown, and close the year.

2 I 'midst ten thousand dangers stand,
Supported by his guardian hand;
And see, when I survey my ways,
Ten thousand monuments of praise.
3 Thus far his arm hath led me on;
Thus far I make his mercy known;
And, while I tread this desert land,
New blessings shall new songs demand.

254.

L. M. 61.

KIPPIS.

Thanksgiving for national Prosperity.

1 How rich thy gifts, almighty King!
From thee our public blessings spring:
Th' extended trade, the fruitful skies,
The treasures liberty bestows,
Th' eternal joys the gospel shows,
All from thy boundless goodness rise.

2 With grateful hearts, with joyful tongues,
To God we raise united songs;
Here still may God in mercy reign,
Crown our just counsels with success,
With peace and joy our borders bless,
And all our sacred rights maintain!

255.

6 & 4s M.

MONTGOMERY.

Praise to the God of Harvest.

1 THE God of harvest praise;
In loud thanksgiving raise
Hand, heart, and voice;
The valleys smile and sing,
Forests and mountains ring,
The plains their tribute bring,
The streams rejoice.

2 Yea, bless his holy name,
And purest thanks proclaim
Through all the earth;
To glory in your lot
Is duty, but be not
God's benefits forgot,
Amidst your mirth.

3 The God of harvest praise;

Hands, hearts, and voices raise,

With sweet accord;

From field to garner throng,

Bearing your sheaves along,
And in your harvest song
Bless ye the Lord.

285