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TIMES AND SEASONS.

THE

1239 But let us, who are of the day, be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love. - 1 Thess. 5. 8. 1 HE old year's long campaign is o’er,

Behold a new begun;
Not yet is closed the Holy War,

Not yet the triumph won.
Out of its still and deep repose

We hear the old year say-
“Go forth again to meet your foes,

Ye children of the day!
2 « Go forth ! firm faith in every heart,

Bright hope on every helm,
Through that shall pierce no fiery dart,

And this no fear o'erwhelm.
Go in the Spirit and the might

Of Him who led the way,
Close with the legions of the night,

Ye children of the day."
3 So forth we go to meet the strife,

We will not fear nor fly:
Live we the holy warrior's life,

His death we hope to die;
We slumber not, that charge in view,

“ Toil on, while toil ye may,
Then night shall be no night to you,

Ye children of the day!”
4 Lord God, our Glory, Three in One,

Thine own sustain, defend,
And give, though dim this earthly sun,

Thy true light to the end;

Till morning tread the darkness down,

And night be swept away,
And infinite sweet triumph crown
Thy children of the day!

S. J. STONE. 1868.

1240 Thou crownest the year with Thy goodness.

Ps. 65. 11.

1 ņHROUGH many changeful morrows

Of anxious pilgrim life,
Through many cares and sorrows,

Through many a bitter strife;
Still onward am I pressing,

The year is passed away,
Thanks, Lord, to Thee, and blessing,
Thou wast, in all,

my stay.
2 Thou who hast well provided,

My path I leave to Thee,
Thou, Saviour, who has guided,

My portion still shall be;
To Thee I would surrender

My will, no longer mine;
Be Thou my life's defender,

My heart be only Thine.

3 In all things Thou wilt bless me,

Whilst to Thy will I bow;
Does
penury

distress me?
My highest good art Thou.
Is persecution vexing ?

Still, Lord, Thou shieldest me.
Is this world's scorn perplexing ?

I yield, and look to Thee.

4 Do I deserted languish?

Lord God, Thou’rt ever near.
My spirit filled with anguish ?
Thou art

my

Comforter.
Does fierce disease befall me?

Submissive I will be.
Dost Thou from this world call me ?

My life belongs to Thee.
5 Is heaven my habitation ?

There I in glory shine;
The final condemnation-

Praise God! that is not mine;
True, if my soul were driven

To darkness, Thou wert just,
But Thou hast all forgiven,

Through Jesus Christ my trust.
6 Whate'er this year may send me,

O! keep me firm and true,
Each day Thy grace attend me,

And every morning new :
Old sins and follies leaving,

New strength by Thee supplied,
New blessings still receiving,
I take Thee for my guide.

G. W. SACER. 1635.
TR. BY F. W. GOTCH. 1880.

1241

7s. Who delivered US

and doth deliver
we trust that He will yet deliver.—2 Cor 1. 10.
1 TYOR Thy mercy and Thy grace,

Faithful through another year,
Hear our song of thankfulness;
Father and Redeemer, hear.

,

,

2 In our weakness and distress,

Rock of Strength! be Thou our stay;
In the pathless wilderness

Be our true and living Way.
3 Keep us faithful, keep us pure,

Keep us evermore Thine own,
Help, oh! help us to endure,

Fit us for the promised crown.
4 So within Thy palace gate

We shall praise on golden strings,
Thee, the only Potentate,
Lord of lords, and King of kings.

H. DOWNTON. 1843.

HARVEST SEASON.

COME

1242 In the time of harvest

. —Matt. 13. 30.
1 YOME, ye thankful people, come,

Raise the song of harvest-home :
All is safely gathered in
Ere the winter storms begin :
God our Maker doth provide
For our wants to be supplied ;
Come to God's own temple, come,

Raise the song of harvest-home!
2 We ourselves are God's own field,

Fruit unto His praise to yield;
Wheat and tares together sown,
Unto joy or sorrow grown;
First the blade and then the ear,
Then the full corn shall

appear :
Grant, О harvest Lord, that we
Wholesome grain and pure may be.

3 For the Lord our God shall come,

And shall take His harvest home;
From His field shall in that day
All offences purge away ;
Give His angels charge at last
In the fire the tares to cast;
But the fruitful ears to store

In His garner evermore.
4 Then, thou Church triumphant, come,
Raise the

song

of harvest-home!
All are safely

gathered in,
Free from sorrow, free from sin;
There for ever purified,
In God's garner to abide :
Come, ten thousand angels, come,
Raise the glorious harvest-home!

DEAN ALFORD. 1844.

1243 They joy Before Phee according to the joy in

harvest. —Isa. 9. 3.
1
THE God of harvest

praise ;
In loud thanksgivings raise

Hand, heart, and voice!
The valleys laugh and sing,
Forests and mountains ring,
The plains their tribute bring,

The streams rejoice!
2 Yes, bless His holy name,
And joyous thanks proclaim,

Through all the earth!
To glory in your lot
Is comely; but be not
God's benefits forgot,
Amid

your

mirth.

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