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3 How the soul in winter mourns,
Till the Lord, the Sun, returns,
Till the Spirit's gentle rain
Bids the heart revive again!

4 O beloved Saviour! haste,

Tell me all the storms are past:
Speak, and by thy gracious voice,
Make my drooping soul rejoice.

HYMN 612, L. M.

612 The Year crowned with Goodness. mf 1 ETERNAL Source of every joy! Well may thy praise our lips employ, While, in thy temple, we appear,

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Whose goodness crowns the circling year.
2 While, as the wheels of nature roll,—
Thy hand supports the steady pole;
The sun is taught by thee to rise,
And darkness, when to veil the skies.
3 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.
4 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.

5 Seasons, and months, and weeks, and days, Demand successive songs of praise;

613

Still be the cheerful homage paid,
With morning light and evening shade.

HYMN 613, C. M.

Summer and Harvest.

mf 1 To praise the ever-bounteous Lord, My soul! wake all thy powers:

He calls-and at his voice come forth
The smiling harvest hours.

2 His covenant with the earth he keeps;
My tongue! his goodness sing;
Summer and winter know their time-
The harvest crowns the spring.

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3 Well-pleased the husbandmen behold
The waving yellow crop;

With joy they bear the sheaves away,
And sow again in hope.

4 Thus teach me, gracious God! to sow
The seeds of righteousness;

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Smile on my soul, and, with thy beams,
The ripening harvest bless.

HYMN 614, C. M.

Seed Time and Harvest.

FOUNTAIN of mercy, God of love!

How rich thy bounties are;
The changing seasons, as they move,
Proclaim thy constant care.

2 When, in the bosom of the earth,
The sower hid the grain,

Thy goodness marked its secret birth,
And sent the early rain.

dol 3 The spring's sweet influence, Lord! was thine; The plants in beauty grew;

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Thou gav'st refulgent suns to shine,
And soft refreshing dew.

4 These varied mercies, from above,
Matured the swelling grain:

A kindly harvest crowns thy love,
And plenty fills the plain.

5 We own and bless thy gracious sway,
Thy hand all nature hails:

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Seed time nor harvest, night nor day,
Summer nor winter, fails.

HYMN 615, C. M.

Fruitful Seasons from God.

THOU who givést all their food!—
Causing thy sun to shine

Upon the evil and the good,

Earth's teeming stores are thine.

2 Thy covénant to man secures

The harvest of his toil;

Thy faithful word, while earth endures,
With plenty clothes the soil.

3 The wintry frost, the flowery prime,
Alike thy laws obey:

Each herb and blossom knows its time,
And feels the quickening ray.

4 Revolving seasons still proclaim
Thine all-sustaining word;

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Seed time and harvest speak thy name,-
The promise-keeping Lord.

1 AWA

HYMN 616, C. M.

Close of the Year.

WAKE ye saints! and raise your eyes,
And raise your voices high:
Awake, and praise that sovereign love,
That shows salvation nigh.

mf 2 On all the wings of time it flies,
Each moment brings it near;
Then welcome each declining day,
Welcome each closing year.

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3 Not many years their rounds shall run, Nor many mornings rise,

Ere all its glories stand revealed

To our admiring eyes.

4 Ye wheels of nature! speed your course, Ye mortal powers! decay;

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Fast as ye bring the night of death,
Ye bring eternal day.

THERE A

HYMN 617, C. M.

Time short-Man frail.
we adore, eternal Name!
And humbly own to thee,
How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying worms are we!

2 The year rolls round, and steals away
The breath that first it gave:
Whate'er we do, where'er we be,
We're traveling to the grave.

3 Good God! on what a slender thread
Hang everlasting things!

Th' eternal state of all the dead,
Upon life's feeble strings.

4 Infinite joy, or endless woe,
Attends on every breath,-

And yet, how unconcerned we go,
Upon the brink of death!

5 Waken, O Lord! our drowsy sense,
To walk this dangerous road;
And if our souls are hurried hence,
May they be found with God,

618

DEATH.

HYMN 618, L. M.

Death and Burial of Saints.

mp 1 UNVEIL thy bosom, faithful tomb!

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Take this new treasure to thy trust,
And give these sacred relics room,
To seek a slumber in the dust.

2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear,
Invade thy bounds;—no mortal woes
Can reach the peaceful sleeper here,

While angels watch the soft repose.
3 So Jesus slept;-God's dying Son

Passed through the grave, and blessed the bed! Rest here, blest saint!-till, from his throne, The morning break, and pierce the shade. f" 4 Break from his throne, illustrious morn! Attend, O earth! his sovereign word; Restore thy trust;-a glorious form Shall then arise to meet the Lord.

619

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HYMN 619, 88 and 78.

Mourners Comforted.

CEASE, ye mourners! cease to languish,
O'er the grave of those you love;
Pain, and death, and night, and anguish,
Enter not the world above.

2. While our silent steps are straying,

Lonely, through night's deepening shade,
Glory's brightest beams are playing
Round th' immortal spirit's head.

mf 8 Light and peace at once deriving,
From the hand of God most high,
In his glorious presence living,
They shall never-never die.

mf 4 Endless pleasure, pain excluding,

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Sickness there, no more can come;
There, no fear of woe, intruding,

Sheds o'er heaven a moment's gloom.
5 Now, ye mourners! cease to languish,
O'er the grave of those you love;
Far removed from pain and anguish,
They are chanting hymns above.

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HEAR

HYMN 620, C. M.

Dying in the Lord.

EAR what the voice from heaven proclaims
For all the pious dead; -

"Sweet is the savor of their names,

And soft their sleeping-bed.

2 "They die in Jesus, and are blessed,-
How kind their slumbers are!

From sufferings, and from sins, released,
And freed from every snare.

8 "Far from this world of toil and strife,
They 're present with the Lord;
The labors of their mortal life
End in a large reward."

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WHY

HYMN 621, C. M.

Mourning with Hope.

THY should our tears in sorrow flow,
When God recalls his own;

And bids them leave a world of woe,

For an immortal crown?

2 Is not e'en death a gain to those,
Whose life to God was given?
Gladly to earth their eyes they close,
To open them in heaven.

3 Their toils are past-their work is done,
And they are fully blest;

They fought the fight, the vict'ry won,

And entered into rest.

4 Then let our sorrows cease to flow,-
God has recalled his own;

But let our hearts, in every woe,
Still say,-"Thy will be done!"