Can never find, although they seek,
A perfect rest;
Nor ever shall, until they lean
God hath made this world so fair,
Where sin and death abound,
How beautiful beyond compare
Will Paradise be found!
2 Here on the hills He feeds His herds,
His flocks on yonder plains;
His praise is warbled by the birds-
Oh! could we catch their strains!
3 In every stream His bounty flows,
Diffusing joy and wealth;
In each refreshing breeze that blows,
He gives us life and health.
4 His blessings fall in plenteous showers
Upon the lap of earth,
That teems with foliage, fruits, and flowers,
And rings with infant mirth.
5 If God hath made this world so fair,
Where sin and death abound,
How beautiful beyond compare
Will Paradise be found!
APPY the man, whose hopes rely
On Israel's God: He made the sky,
And earth, and seas, with all their train :
His truth for ever stands secure ;
He saves the opprest, He feeds the poor;
And none shall find His promise vain.
2 The Lord gives eyesight to the blind;
The Lord supports the sinking mind;
He sends the troubled conscience peace;
He helps the stranger in distress,
The widow and the fatherless,
And grants the prisoner sweet release.
3 I'll praise Him while He lends me breath,
And, when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my nobler powers;
My days of praise shall ne'er be past,
While life and thought and being last,
Or immortality endures.
ATHER! whate'er of earthly bliss
Thy sovereign will denies,
Accepted at Thy throne of grace,
Let this petition rise!
2 Give me a calm, a thankful heart,
From every murmur free ;
The blessings of Thy grace impart,
And make me live to Thee:
3 Lord, teach me to confess Thy hand
From whence my comforts flow,
And let me in this desert land
A glimpse of Canaan know.
4 Let the sweet hope that Thou art mine
My life and death attend!
Thy presence through my journey shine,
And crown my journey's end!
SOMETIMES a light surprises
The Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord, who rises
With healing in His wings :
When comforts are declining,
He grants the soul again
A season of clear shining,
To cheer it after rain.
2 In holy contemplation,
We sweetly then pursue
The theme of God's salvation,
And find it ever new :
Set free from present sorrow,
We cheerfully can say,
E'en let the unknown to-morrow
Bring with it what it may.
3 It can bring with it nothing
But He will bear us through:
Who gives the lilies clothing
Will clothe His people too;
Beneath the spreading heavens
No creature but is fed;
And He, who feeds the ravens,
Will give His children bread.
4 Though vine nor fig-tree neither
Their wonted fruit shall bear ;
Though all the field should wither,
Nor flocks nor herds be there :
Yet God the same abiding,
His praise shall tune my voice;
For while in Him confiding,
I cannot but rejoice.
LORD of heaven and earth and sea! To Thee all praise and glory be ; How shall we show our love to Thee, Giver of all ?
2 The golden sunshine, vernal air,
Sweet flowers and fruits, Thy love declare ;
Where harvests ripen Thou art there,
Giver of all!
3 For peaceful homes and healthful days,
For all the blessings earth displays,
We owe Thee thankfulness and praise,
Giver of all !
4 Thou didst not spare Thine only Son,
But gav'st Him for a world undone,
And freely with that Blessèd One
Thou givest all!
5 Thou giv'st the Holy Spirit's dower,
Spirit of life, and love, and power,
And wilt His sevenfold graces shower
Upon us all.
6 For souls redeemed, for sins forgiven,
For means of grace and hopes of heaven,
What can to Thee, O Lord! be given,
Who givest all?
7 We lose what on ourselves we spend :
We have as treasure without end
Whatever, Lord! to Thee we lend,
Who givest all!
8 Whatever, Lord! we lend to Thee,
Repaid a thousandfold will be ;
Then gladly will we give to Thee,
Who givest all!
9 To Thee, from whom we all derive
Our life, our gifts, our power to give,
Oh! may we ever with Thee live,
Who givest all!
E give Thee but Thine own,
Whate'er the gift may be :
All that we have is Thine alone,
A trust, O Lord! from Thee.
May we Thy bounties thus
As stewards true receive,
And gladly, as Thou blessest us,
To Thee our first-fruits give.
Oh! hearts are bruised and dead;
And homes are bare and cold;
And lambs, for whom the Shepherd bled,
Are straying from the fold.
To God the lost to bring,
To teach the way of life and peace,-
It is a Christ-like thing.
And we believe Thy word,
Though dim our faith may be,—
Whate'er for Thine we do, O Lord!
We do it unto Thee.
WE plough the fields and scatter
The good seed on the land,
But it is fed and watered
By God's almighty hand;
He sends the snow in winter,
The warmth to swell the grain,
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