HYMN 575. C. M.

Gratitude.

How chang'd the face of nature shows,
How gay the rural scene:

A fairer bloom the flowers disclose,
The meads a livelier green.

2 While beauty clothes the fertile vale,
And blossoms on the spray,

And fragrance breathes in every gale,
How sweet the vernal day!

3 And hark! the feather'd warblers sing!
'Tis nature's cheerful voice;
Soft music hails the lovely spring,
And woods and fields rejoice..

4 How kind the influence of the skies!
These showers, with blessings fraught,
Bid verdure, beauty, fragrance rise,
And fix the roving thought.

50 let my wondering heart confess,
With gratitude and love,

The bounteous hand that deigns to bless
The garden, field, and grove.

6 That bounteous hand my thoughts adore,
Beyond expression kind,

Hath sweeter, nobler gifts in store,
To bless the craving mind.

7 That hand, in this hard heart of mine
Can make each virtue live,

And kindly showers of grace divine
Life, beauty, fragrance give.

8 O God of nature, God of

grace,

Thy heavenly gifts impart; And bid sweet meditation trace Spring blooming in my heart!

1

9 Inspir'd to praise, I then shall join
Glad nature's cheerful song:
And love and gratitude divine
Attune my joyful tongue.

HYMN 576. L. M.

MRS. STEELE.

The Resurrection. Matt. xxviii. 2—4.

HE silent noon of night was past,
moon

When sudden gloom the sky o'ercast,
And quench'd in darkness all the scene.
2 The centinels around the tomb,
In which the murder'd Jesus lay,
Look'd forward from the dreary gloom
With anxious eye for coming day.
3 But, hark! beneath the rumbling earth
Began with inward roars to rock,
As if her entrails from their girth
Were bursting with impetuous shock.

4 Th' affrighted soldiers rais'd their eyes
To angry Heav'n in fear-form'd pray'r!
But, lo! new terror in the skies!

A mighty spirit in the air.

5 Like light'ning's fire his count'nance beam'd,
His garment glitter'd white as snow;
Wrapp'd in a blaze of light, he seem'd
Descending tow'rds the earth below.
6 They sunk, in terror overwhelm'd,
Struck to the quaking ground with dread:
The iron warrior, mail'd and helm'd,
Lay pale and senseless as the dead.
7 Soon to the earth the seraph came,
Soon was the rocky door thrown wide,
The quick-returning vital flame
Re-animates the Crucified!

8 With radiant glory compass'd round,
Forth walks the conqueror girt with might;

The prostrate seraph licks the ground,
Eclips'd in his Creator's light.

9 How chang'd the scene!—of late, the mirth
And passive scorn of soldiers rude:

But now, while they lie stretch'd on earth,
He walks, too glorious to be view'd.
10 Behold yon tyrant! stript and bare,
In his own fetters bound, he lies;
His sceptre broken, while the air
Is troubled with his wailing cries.

11 Well may'st thou wail! the time draws nigh,
(This resurrection seals the doom)

When thou, with all thy pow'r shalt die,
And all thy captives leave the tomb.

T

HYMN 577. C. M.

Widow.

J. M. G.

THOUGH faint and sick, and worn away
With poverty and wo,

My widow'd feet are doom'd to stray

Mid thorny paths below;

2 Be thou, O Lord! my Saviour still-
My confidence and guide!
I know that perfect is thy will,
Whate'er that will decide.

3 I know the soul that trusts in Thee
Thou never wilt forsake;
And though a bruised reed I be,
That reed thou wilt not break.

4 Then keep me, Lord! where'er I go-
Support me on my way;

Though worn with poverty and wo,
My widow'd footsteps stray!

5 To give my weakness strength, O God!
Thy staff shall yet avail;

And though thou chasten with thy rod,
That staff shall never fail.

E. W.

HYMN 578. C. M.

The Condescension of God. 1 Kings viii. 27.
TERNAL Pow'r, almighty God,
Who can approach thy throne?
Accessless light is thy abode,
To angel-eyes unknown.

2 Before the radiance of thine eye
The heav'ns no longer shine,
And all the glories of the sky
Are but the shade of thine.

3 Great God, and wilt thou condescend
To cast a look below,

To this vile world thy notice bend,
These seats of sin and wo?

4 But oh! to show thy smiling face,
To bring thy glories near-
Amazing and transporting grace
To dwell with mortals here!

5 How strange! how awful is thy love!
With trembling we adore!

Not all the exalted minds above
Its wonders can explore.

6, While golden harps, and angel tongues
Resound immortal lays,

Great God, permit our humble songs
To rise and mean thy praise.

MRS. STEELE.