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No fruit of holiness

On our dead souls we found:
Yet doth He us in mercy spare,
Another, and another year.

3 When justice bared the sword,
To cut the fig-tree down,
The pity of our Lord

Cried, "Let it still alone;"
The Father mild inclined his ear,
And spared us yet another year.
4 Jesus, thy speaking blood

From God obtain'd the grace,
Who therefore hath bestow'd
On us a longer space:
Thou didst in our behalf appear,
And, lo, we see another year.
5 Then dig about our root,

Break up our fallow ground,
And let our gracious fruit

To thy great praise abound;
O let us all thy praise declare,
And fruit unto perfection bear!

275.

The Nativity of Christ.

I CHRISTIANS, awake, salute the happy morn,
Whereon the Saviour of mankind was born;
Rise to adore the mystery of love,

Which hosts of angels chanted from above:
With them the joyful tidings first began,
Of God Incarnate, and the Virgin's Son.
2 Then to the watchful shepherds it was told,
Who heard the angelic herald's voice, " Behold,
I bring good tidings of a Saviour's birth,
To you, and all the nations upon earth;
This day hath God fulfill'd his promised word,
This day is born a Saviour, Christ the Lord."
3 He spake; and straightway the celestial choir
In hymns of joy unknown before conspire;

The praises of redeeming love they sang,
And heaven's whole orb with hallelujahs rang;
God's highest glory was their anthem still,
Peace upon earth, and unto men good-will.

4 To Bethlehem straight the enlighten'd shepherds

ran,

To see the wonders God had wrought for man; Then to their flocks, still praising God, return, And their glad hearts within their bosoms burn; To all the joyful tidings they proclaim,

The first Apostles of the Saviour's fame.

5 0! may we keep and ponder in our mind,
God's wondrous love in saving lost mankind;
Trace we the Babe, who hath retrieved our loss,
From his poor manger to his bitter cross;
Tread in his steps, assisted by his grace,

Till man's first heavenly state again takes place.
6 Then may we hope, the angelic hosts among,
To find, redeem'd, a glad triumphant throng:
He that was born upon this joyful day,
Around us all his glory shall display:
Saved by his love incessant we shall sing
Eternal praise to heaven's Almighty King.
276.

Epiphany.

1 BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid; Star of the east, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid.

2 Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining, Low lies his bed with the beasts of the stall; Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,

Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all.

3 Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion, Odours of Edom, and offerings divine,

Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean, Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?

4 Vainly we offer each ample oblation,

Vainly with gold would his favour secure ; Richer by far is the heart's adoration,

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. 5 Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid; Star of the east, the horizon adorning, Guide where our Infant Redeemer is laid.

277.

The Advent of Christ.

1 How shall I meet my Saviour?
How shall I welcome Thee?
What manner of behaviour

Is now required of me?
Let thine illumination

Guide heart and hand aright,

That this my preparation

Be pleasing in thy sight.

2 Whilst with her sweetest flowers
Thy Sion strews thy way,
I'll raise with all my powers
To thee a grateful lay:
To thee the King of glory
I'll tune a song divine;
And make thy love's bright story
In graceful numbers shine.

3 I lay in fetters groaning,

Thou cam'st to set me free:
My shame I was bemoaning,
With grace thou cloathed'st me:
Thou raised'st me to glory,
Endowd'st me with thy bliss,
Which is not transitory,

As worldly treasure is.

4 This caused thy incarnation,

This brought Thee down to me!

Thy thirst for my salvation

Contrived my liberty!

O love beyond all measure,

Wherewith Thou dost embrace Mankind, 'midst all that pressure Which, since the fall, takes place !

278.

The Song of the Angels at Bethlehem.
1 HARK! what mean those holy voices,
Sweetly sounding through the skies!
Lo! the angelic host rejoices;
Heavenly hallelujahs rise.

2 Listen to the wondrous story,
Which they chant in hyms of joy ;
"Glory in the highest, glory!
Glory be to God most high!

3" Peace on earth, good-will from heaven,
Reaching far as man is found;
Souls redeem'd, and sins forgiven :-
Loud our golden harps shall sound.
4" Christ is born, the Great Anointed;
Heaven and earth his praises sing!
O receive whom God appointed
For your Prophet, Priest, and King.
5 "Hasten, mortals, to adore Him;

Learn his name, and taste his joy;
Till in heaven ye sing before Him,
Glory be to God most high!',
6 Let us learn the wondrous story
Of our Great Redeemer's birth;
Spread the brightness of his glory,
Till it cover all the earth.

279.

The Star of Bethlehem.

1 WHEN marshall'd on the nightly plain,
The glittering host bestud the sky;
One star alone, of all the train,
Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

2 Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,
From every host, from every gem;
But one alone the Saviour speaks,
It is the star of Bethlehem.

3.Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud,-the night was dark, The ocean yawn'd,—and rudely blow'd The wind that toss'd my foundering bark. 4 Deep horror then my vitals froze, Deep-struck I ceased the tide to stem; When suddenly a star arose,

It was the star of Bethlehem.

5 It was my guide, my light, my all,
It bade my dark foreboding cease;
And through the storm and danger's thrall,
It led me to the port of peace.

6 Now safely moor'd-my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
For ever and for ever more,

The star!—the star of Bethlehem !
280.

The Crucifixion.

1 SEE, world, upon the shameful tree
Thy life there sinks in death,

Cover'd with stripes and wounds for Thee,
Thy Saviour yields his breath.

2 Thou Prince of glory knew'st no sin,
What caused Thee then thy pain?
Thou harmless, undefiled, and clean,
What caused Thee to be slain?

3 My sins, as numerous as the sands
Upon the ocean shore,

Have been the cruel murderous hands
That wounded Thee so sore.

4 Thy wondrous love to evidence,
Thou would'st my surety be:

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