BEETHOVEN. L. M.

Arr. by Lowell Mason.

ΙΟ

2 Blest hour, when earthly cares resign
Their empire o'er his anxious breast,
While, all around, the calm divine
Proclaims the holy day of rest.

3 Blest hour, when God himself draws nigh, Well pleased his people's voice to hear, To hush the penitential sigh,

4

And wipe away the mourner's tear.

Blest hour, for where the Lord resorts
Foretastes of future bliss are given,
And mortals find His earthly courts
The house of God, the gate of Heaven.
Thomas Raffles. 1828.
II
I LORD! may thy truth, upon the heart
Now fall, and dwell as heavenly dew,
And flowers of grace in freshness start
Where once the weeds of error grew.

2 May prayer now lift her sacred wings,
Contented with that aim alone
Which bears her to the King of kings,
And rests her at his sheltering throne.

12

I DEAR is the hallowed morn to me,
When Sabbath bells awake the day,
And, by their sacred minstrelsy,
Call me from earthly cares away.

2

And dear to me the wingéd hour

Spent in thy hallowed courts, O Lord!
To feel devotion's soothing power,
And catch the manna of thy word.

3 And dear to me the loud Amen
Which echoes through the blest abode,
Which swells, and sinks,and swells again,
Dies on the walls, but lives to God.

4 Oft when the world, with iron hands, Has bound me in its six days' chain, This bursts them, like the strong man's bands,

And lets my spirit loose again.

5 Go, man of pleasure, strike thy lyre,
Of broken Sabbaths sing the charms;
Ours be the prophet's car of fire
That bears us to a Father's arms.
J. W. Cunningham. 1822.

2 So pilgrims on the scorching sand,
Beneath a burning sky,
Long for a cooling stream at hand,
And they must drink or die.

3 I've seen thy glory and thy power
Through all thy temple shine;
My God, repeat that heavenly hour,
That vision so divine.

4 Not life itself, with all its joys,
Can my best passions move,
Or raise so high my cheerful voice,
As thy forgiving love.

5 Thus, till my last expiring day,
I'll bless my God and King;
Thus will I lift my hands to pray,
And tune my lips to sing.

17

I My Lord, my Love, was crucified,
He all the pains did bear;
But in the sweetness of his rest
He makes his servants share.

Within thy church below; Make her in holiness excel, With pure devotion glow.

Let peace within her walls be found; Let all her sons unite,

To spread with grateful zeal around. Her clear and shining light.

19

Harriet Auber. 1829.

4 This day I must with God appear; For, Lord, the day is thine; Help me to spend it in thy fear, Then shall the day be mine.

20

7. Mason. 1683.

I AND now another week begins,
This day we call the Lord's;
This day he rose, who bore our sins,
For so his word records.

2 Hark, how the angels sweetly sing! Their voices fill the sky;

3

They hail their great, victorious King,
And welcome him on high.

We'll catch the note of lofty praise;
Their joys in part we feel;

With them our thankful song we'll raise,
And emulate their zeal.

4 Come, then, ye saints! and grateful sing
Of Christ, our risen Lord,
Of Christ, the everlasting King,
Of Christ, th' incarnate Word.

5 Hail! mighty Saviour! thee we hail,
Who fillest the throne above!
Till heart and flesh together fail,
We'll sing thy matchless love.

Thomas Kelly. 1809.