That I may act the christian part,
And give the year to thee.

5 So shall their course more grateful roll,

If future years arise;

Or this shall bear my smiling soul
To joy that never dies.

556. C. M. Dr. Doddridge.

The near Approach of Salvation an Induce. ment to Diligence. Rom. xiii. 11. For the New-Year.

1 AWAKE, ye saints, and raise your eyes,

And raise your voices high;

Awake and praise the sov'reign love
That shows salvation nigh..
2 On all the wings of time it flies:
Each moment brings it near;
Then welcome each declining day!
Welcome each closing year!

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

Ere all its glories stand reveal'd

To our admiring eyes.

4 Ye wheels of nature, speed your course;
Ye mortal pow'rs, decay;

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

557. L. M. Dr. Doddridge.

Ebenezer; or, God's helping Hand reviewed and acknowledged. 1'Sam. vii. 12. For New-year's Day.

MY helper God! I bless his name:

The same his pow'r, his grace the same: The tokens of his friendly care

Open, and crown, and close the year. 2 I, 'midst ten thousand dangers stand, Supported by his guardian hand; And see, when I survey my ways, Ten thousand monuments of praise. 3 Thus far his arm hath led me on; Thus far I make his mercy known; And, while I tread this desert land, New mercies shall new songs demand. 4 My grateful soul, on Jordan's shore, Shall raise one sacred pillar more;

1

2

3

4

Then bear in his bright courts above,
Inscriptions of immortal love.

558. P. M. Mr. Charles Wesley. The barren Fig-tree. Luke xiii. 6, &c. For the New Year.

THE

THE Lord of earth and sky,
The God of ages praise,

Who reigns enthrou'd on high,
Aucient of endless days;

Who lengthens out our trial here,
And spares us yet another year.
Barren and wither'd trees,

We cumber'd long the ground,
No fruit of holiness

On our dead souls was found;
Yet doth he us in mercy spare,
Another and another year.
When justice bar'd the sword,
To cut the fig-tree down,
The pity of our Lord

Cry'd, let it still alone."
The Father mild inclines his ear,
And spares us yet another year.
Jesus, thy pleading 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 precious fruit

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

559. C. M. Dr. Doddridge.

Misimproved Privileges, and disappointed Hopes. Jer. viii. 20.

1 ALAS, how fast our moments fly:

How short our months appear!
How swift through various seasons haste
The still revolving year!

2 Seasons of grace, and days of hope,
While Jesus waiting stands,

And spreads the blessings of his love
With wide extended hands.

3 But, O how slow our stupid souls,
These blessings to secure!
Blessings, which through eternal ycats,
Unwith'ring, shall endure.

4 Beneath the word of life we die;
We starve amidst our store;
And what salvation should impart
Heightens our ruin more.

5 Pity this madness, God of love!
And make us truly wise:
So from the pregnant seeds of grace
Shall glorious harvests rise.

1

G

560. L. M. Dr. Watts.

A Morning Hymn.

Psalm xix. 5, 8-and Ixxiii. 24, 25. OD of the morning, at whose voice The cheerful sun makes haste to rise, And like a giant doth rejoice,

To run his journey through the skies. 2 From the fair chambers of the East, The circuit of his race begins,

And without weariness or rest,

Round the whole earth he flies and shines.

3 Oh, like the sun may I fulfil

Th' appointed duties of the day,

With ready mind and active will,
March on and keep my heav'nly way!

4 Give me thy counsel for my guide,
And then receive me to thy bliss;
All my desires and hopes beside

Are faint and cold compar'd with this.
561. C. M. Dr. Watts.
A Morning Song.

ONCE more, my soul, the rising day

Salutes thy waking eyes;

Once more, my voice, thy tribute pay
To him that rules the skies.
2 Night unto night his name repeats,
The day renews the sound,

Wide as the heav'ns on which he sits,
To turn the seasons round.

3 'Tis he supports my mortal frame;
My tongue shall speak his praise:

My sins would rouse his wrath to flame,
And yet his wrath delays.

4 [On a poor worm thy pow'r might tread, And I could ne'er withstand:

Thy justice might have crush'd me dead, But mercy held thine hand.

5 How many wretched souls are fled
Since the last setting sun!

And yet thou length'nest out my thread,
And yet my moments run.]

6 Dear God! let all my hours be thine,
Whilst I enjoy the light;

Then shall my sun in smiles decline,
And bring a pleasant night.

562. C. M. Dr. Watts.

A Hymn for Morning or Evening.
TOSANNA with a cheerful sound,
To God's upholding hand;

And morning mercies from above,
Gently distil, like early dew.

2 Thou spread'st the curtains of the night,
Great guardian of our sleeping hours!
Thy sov'reign word restores the light,
And quickens all our drowsy pow'rs.
3 We yield our powers to thy command;
To thee we consecrate our days:
Perpetual blessings from thine hand
Demand perpetual songs of praise.

564. L. M. Dr. Watts.
An Evening Hymn.

Psalm iv. 8. and iii. 5, 6. and cxliii. 8.
THUS far the Lord has led me on,

1 Thus far his pow'r prolongs my days, And ev'ry evening shall make known Some fresh memorial of his grace.

2 Much of my time has run to waste, And I perhaps am near my home But he forgives my follies past,

And gives me strength for days to come. 3 I Lay my body down to sleep; Peace is the pillow for my head; While well-appointed angels keep Their watchful stations round my bed. 4. In vain the sons of earth or hell

Tell me a thousand frightful things; My God in safety makes me dwell Beneath the shadow of his wings. 5 [Faith in his name forbids my fear: O may thy presence ne'er depart! And in the morning make me hear The love and kindness of thy heart. 6 Thus when the hour of death shall come, My flesh shall rest beneath the ground," And wait thy voice to rouse my tomb, With sweet salvation in the sound.]

565. L. M. Mr. R. Elliott. Self-Examination on the lapse of Time An Evening Hymn.

Ho

[OW fast my fleeting minutes run!
Another day is past and gone;

That valuable time is o'er,

And will be mine, alas! no more.