The time to sacred thought is dear,
When Thou alone, good Lord, art near;
Hushed is the world's external din,
That we may hear Thy voice within.
It seems to plead with gentle breath;
"Sad child of frailty, heir of death,
Its rest thy wearied body knows;
O, let thy soul on Me repose!
"I came to suffer in thy stead;
I had not where to lay My head:
Think on the love, that could provide
Blessings for man, to God denied!"
Thus silent hours of darkness prove
Remembrancers of Jesu's love;
While constancy in prayer we learn
From each succeeding night's return.
Day without night the Angels sing,
Nor rest upon the drooping wing;
Teaching our souls betimes to ascend,
Where hallelujahs never end.
David awaked his harp and voice,
And all within him, to rejoice,
God's love to praise at morning light,
And tell of all His truth at night.
Jacob in prayer nocturnal strove ;
No stern repulse his prayer could move :
In vain the Angel-man did say,
"Dismiss Me; for 't is break of day!"
See how, in galling fetters laid,
At midnight Paul and Silas prayed;
Their gory wounds still smarting sore,
And cold the prison's rugged floor.
They sang the praises of the Lord;
So loud they sang, the prisoners heard :
And yet they thought that death was nigh;
And clouds obscured their morning sky.
How shall I then Thy praise decline,
When health, and friends, and home are mine?
My dawn of day is clear and calm;
No foes oppress, no fears alarm.
Are these Thy mercies, Lord, to me?
O, let me then Thy servant be!
Submitting to Thy just control,
And loving Thee with all my soul.
So shall I find Thee strong to save,
When my last bed shall be the grave;
The Grave shall own my Saviour's might,
And darkness vanish at Thy sight!
Only my soul must now awake
From sleep of sin, for Thy dear sake!
And then my body shall arise
From sleep of death to yonder skies.
'Tis there I hope Thy Face to see, The crown of all felicity;
'Tis there I hope that rest to gain, Which here I seek, but seek in vain.
As endless ages roll along,
Endless shall be my grateful song:
And Heaven itself shall pass away,
Before I cease my vows to pay.
Glory to God, who Israel keeps,
Who never slumbers, never sleeps!
Almighty Power no weakness knows ;
Unwearied Love asks no repose.
And now, my midnight musings o'er,
Thy wonted mercies, Lord, restore :
Let sleep again my eyelids fill,
And Angels guard my soul from ill.
Praise to the Father, and the Son,
And th' Holy Ghost, Bless'd Three in One! Praise to the Lord, our God, be given
By all on earth, by all in heaven!
TERNAL source of every joy,
Well may Thy praise our lips employ, While in Thy temple we appear, Whose goodness crowns the circling year. 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.
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.
Seasons and months and weeks and days
Demand successive songs of praise;
Still be the cheerful homage paid
With opening light and evening shade!
Oh! may our more harmonious tongues
In worlds unknown pursue the songs;
And in those brighter courts adore,
Where days and years revolve no more!
OUNTAIN of mercy! God of love!
How rich Thy bounties are!
The rolling seasons, as they move,
Proclaim Thy constant care.
When in the bosom of the earth
The sower hid the grain,
Thy goodness marked its secret birth,
And sent the early rain.
The spring's sweet influence was Thine,
The plants in beauty grew ;
Thou gavest refulgent suns to shine,
And mild refreshing dew.
These various mercies from above
Matured the swelling grain ;
A yellow harvest crowns Thy love,
And plenty fills the plain.
Seed-time and harvest, Lord, alone
Thou dost on man bestow;
Let him not then forget to own
From whom his blessings flow!
Fountain of love! our praise is Thine;
To Thee our songs we 'll raise,
And all created Nature join
In sweet harmonious praise !
Anne Flowerdew. 1811
LORD, in Thy Name Thy servants plead,
And Thou hast sworn to hear;
Thine is the harvest, Thine the seed,
The fresh and fading year.
Our hope, when autumn winds blew wild,
We trusted, Lord, with Thee;
And, now that spring has on us smiled,
We wait on Thy decree.
The former and the latter rain,
The summer sun and air,
The green ear, and the golden grain,
All Thine, are ours by prayer.
Thine too by right, and ours by grace,
The wondrous growth unseen,
The hopes that soothe, the fears that brace,
The love that shines serene !
So grant the precious things brought forth
By sun and moon below,
That Thee, in Thy new heaven and earth,
We never may forego!
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