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Begin, my soul, th' exalted lay,
And praise th' Almighty's name ;
To swell th’ inspiring theme.
Ye fields of light, celestial plains,
Ye scenes divinely fair!
And breath'd the fluid air.
Ye angels catch the thrilling sound,
His boundless mercy sing;
And touch the sweetest string.
Join, ye loud spheres, ye vocal choir :
The mighty chorus aid !
And praise him in the shade.
Thou heaven of heavens, his vast abođe, Ye clouds, proclaim your forming God,
Who called yon worlds from night: * Ye shades disperse,” th' Eternal said; At once th' involving darkness fled,
And nature sprung to ligbt.
Whate'er a blooming world contains,
United praise bestow :
Ye swelling deeps below;
Let ev'ry element rejoice
To bim who bade you roll :
And breathe it to the soul :
'To Him, ye graceful cedars bow,
Your great Creator own;
And trembl’d at his frown.
Ye flocks that haunt the humble vale, Ye insects fluttering on the gale,
In mutual concert rise :
Crop the gay rose's vermeil bloom,
In incense to the skies,
Wake, all ye mountain tribes, and sing;
Harnionious anthems raise
And iun'd your voice to praise.
Let man, by nobler passions sway'd,
In heavenly praise employ;
The gen’ral burst of joy.
THE PRAISE OF THE REDEEMER.
Mighty God, while angels bless thee,
May an infant lisp thy name? Lord of men as well as angels,
Thou art every creature's theme. Lord of every land and nation,
Ancient of eternal days : Sounded through the wide creation,
Be thy jast and lawful praise,
For the grandeur of thy nature
Grand beyond a seraph's thought ; For created works of power,
Works with skill and kindness wrought;
For thy providence. that governs
Through thine empire's wide domain, Wings an angel, guides a sparrow ;
Blessed be thy gentle reign.
But thy rich, thy free redemption,
Dark through brightness all along; 'Thought is poor, and poor expression ;
Who dare sing that awful song ?
Brightness of the Father's glory,
Shall thy praise unutter'd lie ?
Sing the Lord who came to die.
Did archangels sing thy coming ?
Did the sbepherds learn their lays ? Shame would cover me ungrateful,
Should my tongue refuse to praise.
From the highest throne in glory,
To the cross of deepest woe; All to ransom guilty captives !
Flow, my praise, for ever fion'.
Go, return, immortal Saviour,
Leave thy footstool, take thy throne;
Thence return and reign for ever,
Be she kingdom all thine own,
THE GREAT PHYSICIAN,
Prep are the wounds which sin has made ;
Where shall the sinner find a cure ? In vain, alas is nature's aid ;
The work exceeds all nature's pow'r.
And can no soy'reign balm be found;
And is no kind physician nigh,
Ere life and hope for ever fly.
There is a great Physician near,
Look up, 0 fainting soul, and live; See in his heavenly smiles appear
Such ease as nature cannot give.
See in tly dying Saviour's blood
Life, health, and bliss abundant flow; 'Tis only this all-powerful flood
Can ease thy pain, and heal thy woe.
Sin throps in vain its pointed dart,
Por 110W a sov'reign cure is fouud, A cordial for the fainting heart,
balu for ev'ry painful womud.