Part 31 (1/2)

6 [Ten thousand praises to the King, Hosanna in the highest; Ten thousand thanks our spirits bring To G.o.d and to his Christ.]

Hymn 2:38.

Love to G.o.d.

1 Happy the heart where graces reign, Where love inspires the breast; Love is the brightest of the train, And strengthens all the rest.

9 Knowledge, alas! 'Tis all in vain, And all in vain our fear, Our stubborn sins will fight and reign If love be absent there.

3 'Tis love that makes our cheerful feet In swift obedience move, The devils know and tremble too, But Satan cannot love.

4 This is the grace that lives and sings When faith and hope shall cease, 'Tis this shall strike our joyful strings In the sweet realms of bliss.

5 Before we quite forsake our clay, Or leave this dark abode, The wings of love bear us away To see our smiling G.o.d.

Hymn 2:39.

The shortness and misery of life.

1 Our days, alas! our mortal days Are short and wretched too; ”Evil and few,” the patriarch says, [1]

And well the patriarch knew.

2 'Tis but at best a narrow bound That heaven allows to men, And pains and sins run thro' the round Of threescore years and ten.

3 Well, if ye must be sad and few, Run on, my days, in haste; Moments of sin, and months of woe, Ye cannot fly too fast.

4 Let heavenly love prepare my soul, And call her to the skies, Where years of long salvation roll, And glory never dies.

[1] Genesis 47:9.

Hymn 2:40.

Our comfort in the covenant made with Christ.

1 Our G.o.d, how firm his promise stands, E'en when he hides his face!

He trusts in our Redeemer's hands His glory and his grace.

2 Then why, my soul, these sad complaints, Since Christ and we are one; Thy G.o.d is faithful to his saints, Is faithful to his Son.

3 Beneath his smiles my heart has liv'd, And part of heaven possess'd; I praise his Name for grace receiv'd, And trust him for the rest.

Hymn 2:41.

A sight of G.o.d mortifies us to the world.

1 [Up to the fields where angels lie, And living waters gently roll, Fain would my thoughts leap out and fly, But sin hangs heavy on my soul.

2 Thy wondrous blood, dear dying Christ, Can make this load of guilt remove; And thou canst bear me where thou fly'st, On thy kind wings, celestial Dove!]

3 O might I once mount up and see The glories of th' eternal skies, What little things these worlds would be!