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Chain'd to his throne, a volume lies,

With all the fates of men,
With every Angel's form and size,

Drawn by the eternal pen.
His providence unfolds the book,

And makes his councils shine;
Each opening leaf, and ev'ry stroke

Fulfils some deep design. Here, he exalts neglected worms

To sceptres and a crown; And there, the following page he turns,

And treads the monarch down.
Not Gabriel asks the reason why,

Nor God the reason gives;
Nor dares the favourite Angel pry

Between the folded leaves.
My God, I would not long to see

My fate with curious eyes,
What gloomy lines are writ for me,

Or what bright scenes may rise.
In thy fair book of life and grace,

O may I find my name Recorded in some humble place,

Beneath my Lord the Lamb!

6. God our Help.

O God, our help in ages past,

Our hope for years to come; Our shelter from the stormy blast,

And our eternal home!

Under the shadow of thy throne

Thy saints have dwelt secure : Sufficient is thy arm alone,

And our defence is sure.

Before the hills in order stood,

Or earth receiv'd its frame, From everlasting thou art God,

To endless years the same.

A thousand ages in thy sight

Are like an evening gone, Short as the watch that ends the night

Before the rising sun.

The busy tribes of flesh and blood,

With all their cares and fears, Are carry'd downward by the flood,

And lost in foll’wing years. Time, like an ever-rolling stream,

Bears all its sons away : They fly, forgotten, as a dream

Dies at the op'ning day.

Thou turnest man, O Lord, to dust,

Of which he first was made; And when thou speak’st the word · Return,'

'Tis instantly obey'd.

Through ev'ry scene of life and death

Thy promise is our trust:
Oh may this be our children's song

When we are cold in dust.

O God, our help in ages past,

Our hope for years to come,
Be thou our guard, while life shall last,

And our eternal home!

7. God full of Compassion. My soul, repeat his praise,

Whose mercies are so great,
Whose anger is so slow to rise,

So ready to abate.
High as the heav'ns are rais'd

Above the ground we tread,
So far the riches of his grace

Our highest thoughts exceed.

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The pity of the Lord,

To those that fear his name, Is such as tender parents feel; He knows our feeble frame,

Our days are as the grass,

Or like the morning flow'r;
If one sharp blast sweep o'er the field,

It withers in an hour.

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But thy compassions, Lord,

To endless years endure;
And children's children ever find

The word of promise sure.

My soul, repeat his praise,

Whose mercies are so great ; Whose anger

is so slow to rise, So ready to abate.

8. God faithful. Begin, my tongue, some heav'nly theme,

And speak some boundless thing, The mighty works, or mightier name,

Of our Eternal King.

Tell of his wond'rous faithfulness,

And sound his pow'r abroad,
Sing the sweet promise of his grace,

And the performing God.

Proclaim Salvation from the Lord

For wretched dying men ;'
His hand has writ the sacred word

With an immortal pen,

is strong

Engray'd as in eternal brass,

The mighty promise shines ;
Nor can the pow'rs of darkness 'rase

Those everlasting lines.
His very word of

grace As that which built the skies ; The voice that rolls the stars along

Speaks all the promises. Oh, might I hear thịne heav'nly tongue

But whisper • Thou art mine !' Those gentle words should raise my song

To notes almost divine.

9. God glorious and gracious. FATHER, how wide thy glories shine!

How high thy wonders rise !
Known thro' the earth by thousand signs,

By thousand thro the skies.
Those mighty orbs proclaim thy pow'r,

Their motions speak thy skill;
And on the wings of ev'ry hour

We read thy patience still.
But when we view thy vast design

To save rebellious worms,
Where vengeance and compassion join

In their divinest forms.
Here the whole deity is known;

Nor dares a creature guess

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