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3 Whate'er we do, where'er we turn,

Thy ceaseless bounty flows; Oppressed with woe, when nature faints,

Thine arm is our repose.
4 To thee we look, thou Power supreme !

O, still our wants supply!
Safe in thy presence may we live,

And in thy favor die.

C. M.

DODDRIDGE. Trusting in God. 1 PRAISE to the Sovereign of the sky,

Who, from his lofty throne,
Looks down on all that humble lie,

And calls such souls his own. 2 The haughty sinner he disdains,

Though gems his temples crown;
And from the seat of pomp and pride

His vengeance hurls him down. 3 On his afflicted, pious poor

He makes his face to shine ;
He fills their cottages of clay

With lustre all divine.
4 Among the meanest of thy flock

There let my dwelling be,
Rather than under gilded roofs,

If absent, Lord, from thee.
5 Poor and afflicted though we are,

In thy strong name we trust,
And bless the hand of sovereign love,
Which lifts us from the dust.

C. M.

DARWIN. Trust in God in Prosperity and Adversity. 1 THE Lord how tender is his love!

His justice, how august!
Hence, all her fears my soul derives,

There, anchors all her trust.
2 He showers the manna from above,

To feed the barren waste,
Or points with death the fiery hail,

And famine waits the blast.
3 He bids distress forget to groan,

The sick from anguish cease ;
In dungeons spreads his healing wing,

And softly whispers peace.
4 His power directs the rushing wind,

Or tips the bolt with flame;
His goodness breathes in every breeze,

And warms in every beam. 5 For me, O Lord, whatever lot

The hours commissioned bring,
Do all my withering blessings die,

Or fairer clusters spring, -
6 O, grant that still, with grateful heart,

My years resigned may run : 'Tis thine to give, or to resume;

And may thy will be done.

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C. M.

PARADISE ST. COL. The Benefit of Affliction. 1 O GOD, to thee my sinking soul

In deep distress doth fly;
Thy love can all my griefs control,

And all my wants supply.
2 How oft, when black misfortune's band

Around their victim stood,
The seeming ill, at thy command,

Hath changed to real good!
3 The tempest that obscured the sky,

Hath set my bosom free
From earthly care and sensual joy,

And turned my thoughts to thee.
4 Affliction's blast hath made me learn

To feel for others' woe,
And humbly seek, with deep concern,

My own defects to know.
5 Then rage, ye storms ! ye billows, roar!

My heart defies your shock;
Ye make me cling to God the more

To God, my sheltering Rock.

C. M.

Acquiescence in the divine Will.
1 AUTHOR of good, we rest on thee;

Thine ever-watchful eye Alone our real wants can see,

Thy hand alone supply.

2 In thine all-gracious providence

Our cheerful hopes confide;
O, let thy power be our defence,

Thy love our footsteps guide. 3 And since, by passion's force subdued,

Too oft, with stubborn will,
We blindly shun the latent-good,

And grasp the specious ill, 4 Not what we wish, but what we want,

Let mercy still supply ;
The good unasked, O Father, grant;

The ill, though asked, deny.

L. M.

NORTON. Trust and Submission. 1 MY God, I thank thee; may no thought

E’er deem thy chastisements severe; But may this heart, by sorrow taught,

Calm each wild wish, each idle fear. 2 Thy mercy bids all nature bloom ;

The sun shines bright, and man is gay; Thine equal mercy spreads the gloom

That darkens o'er his little day. 3 Full many a throb of grief and pain

Thy frail and erring child must know; But not one prayer is breathed in vain,

Nor does one tear unheeded flow. 4 Thy various messengers employ;

Thy purposes of love fulfil ;
And, mid the wreck of human joy,

Let kneeling faith adore thy will.

S. M.

CowPER. Submission. 1 0 LORD, my best desire fulfil,

And help me to resign
Life, health, and comfort to thy will,

And make thy pleasure mine.
2 Why should I shrink at thy command,

Whose love forbids my fears ?
Or tremble at the gracious hand

That wipes away my tears? 3 No, rather let me freely yield

What most I prize to thee,
Who never hast a good withheld,

Or wilt withhold, from me.
4 Wisdom and mercy guide my way;

Shall I resist them both ?
A poor, blind creature of a day,

And crushed before the moth! 5 But, ah! my inward spirit cries,

Still bind me to thy sway;
Else the next cloud that veils the skies

Drives all these thoughts away.


C. M.

TOPLADY'S COL. Habitual Resignation. 1 WITH God my Friend, the radiant sun

Sheds a more lively ray;
Each object smiles; all nature charms;

I chase my cares away.

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