2 Fit emblem of our mortal state!
Thus, in the scripture glass,
The young, the strong, the wise, the great,
May see themselves but grass.
3 Ah! trust not to your fleeting breath,
Nor call your time your own;
Around you see the scythe of death
Is mowing thousands down.
4 And you, who hitherto are spar'd,
Must shortly yield your lives;
Your wisdom is to be prepar'd,
Before the stroke arrives.
5 The grass, when dead, revives no more,
You die to live again;
Beware lest death should prove the door
To everlasting pain.
6 Lord, help us to obey thy call,
And all our sins remove;
That when like grass our bodies fall,
Our souls may rise above.
HYMN 313. L. M.
Autumn, or the Harvest is the End of the World. Matthew xiii. 39.
EE how brown autumn spreads the field; Mark how the whit ning hills are turn'd; Behold them to the reapers yield,
The wheat is sav'd, the tares are burn'd. 2 Thus the great Judge, with glory crown'd, Descends to reap the ripen'd earth; Angelic guards attend him down, The same who sang his humble birth. 3 In sounds of glory, hear him speak; "Go search around the flaming world,
Haste, call my saints to rise and take
The seats from which their foes were hurl'd.
4 "Go, burn the chaff in endless fire,
In flames unquench'd consume each tare;
Sinners must feel my holy ire,
And sink in guilt to deep despair.
5 Thus ends the harvest of the earth,
Angels obey the awful voice;
They save the wheat, they burn the chaff,
All heav'n approves the sov❜reign choice.
The Seasons, or the Year Crowned with Divine Goodness. Psal. lxv. 11.
TERNAL source of ev'ry joy!
Well may thy praise our lips employ ;
We hail that goodness ever near,
Which richly crowns the circling year.
2 While as the wheels of nature roll,
Thy hand supports the steady poll:
The sun is taught by thee to rise,
And darkness when to veil the skies.
3 The flow'ry 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, soften'd by thy care,
No more a face of horror wear.
5 Seasons, and months, and weeks, and days,
Demand successive songs of praise;
Still be the cheerful homage paid,
With op'ning light and ev'ning shade.
6 Here in thy house shall incense rise,
As circling Sabbaths bless our eyes;
Still will we make thy mercies known,
Around thy board, and round our own.
7 And Oh, may our harmonious tongues,
In worlds unknown pursue the songs;
And in those brighter courts adore,
Where days and years revolve no more.
HYMN 315. C. M.
A Morning Hymn.
"Tad said, "s Let there be light;"
WAS the eternal Word that spake,
It was, and at his high command,
Sprang from the womb of night.
2 He bids the day-spring know its place,
And guides the rising sun;
All nature owns her sov❜reign Lord,
And what he wills is done.
3 Should he forbid the sun to rise,
And endless darkness reign,
Justice would silence every mouth,
Nor let a thought complain.
4 Thus had the Sun of Righteousness
Never rose and shone,
The frowning heav'ns had flash'd with wrath, For crimes which we have done.
5 Then had salvation ne'er appear'd, Nor angels sang of peace;
The anthem never had begun,
Which now will never cease.
6 But thanks to God, the natʼral sun,
Does light and heat convey;
The Sun of Righteousness will shine,
An everlasting day.
HYMN 316. Sevens.
A Hymn to be repeated when rising.
OW the shades of night are gone;
Now the morning light is come;
Lord, may I be thine to-day,
Drive the shades of sin away.
2 Fill my soul with heav'nly light,
Banish doubt, and cleanse my sight;
In thy service, Lord, to-day,
Help me labor, help me pray.
3 Keep my haughty passions bound,
Save me from my foes around;
Going out and coming in,
Keep me safe from ev'ry sin.
4 When my work of life is past,
Oh receive me then at last!
Night of sin will be no more,
When I reach the heav'nly shore.
HYMN 317. C. M.
A Morning Hymn.
WITH thee, great God, the stores of light,
And stores of darkness lie;
Thou form'st the sable veil of night,
And spread'st it round the sky.
2 And when with welcome slumber press'd, We close our weary eyes,
Thy pow'r unseen secures our rest,
And makes us joyful rise.
3 Numbers this night, great God, have met
Their long, eternal doom;
And lost the joys of morning light,
In death's tremendous gloom.
4 Numbers on restless beds still lie,
And still their woes bewail!
While we, by thy kind hand uprais'd,
A thousand pleasures feel.
5 To thee, great God, in thankful songs,
Our morning thoughts arise
Propitious in thy Son, accept
The willing sacrifice
HYMN 318. L. M.
An Evening Hymn.
LEST Lord, when darkness veils the skies,
Prevent the slumber of mine eyes,
Till bow'd before the King of kings,
I ask myself the following things.
2 Where have I been, what have I done?
To what new follies have I run?
Have I observ'd each rising thought,
And done the things which God hath taught?
3 Do secret thoughts and actions prove
My love to God, who reigns above?
Do my affections rise on high,
As days and nights successive fly?
4 Do I rejoice in that wise plan,
Which governs all th' affairs of man?
Gives life, and health, and joy, and rest,
Or sends affliction when 'tis best?
5 And when God's holy law I hear,
Does it alarm my heart with fear?
Or does it sweetly rule within,
And make me hate and fly from sin?
6 Lord, help me see and try my heart,
And search me through in every part;
Cleanse me from sin, and warm my love,
Thus fit me for the world above.
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