Because the spring of life most pure And in thy light we shall be sure Therefore the gladness of my heart The path of life thou wilt shew me: O still draw out thy love and grace That so my tongue may sing thy praise, And never silent be, O Lord my God e'en all my days THE THIRD PART. GLORY to the eternal God, In his transcendant place: Let peace on earth make her abode : Praise ye the Lord; sing unto him In the assemblies of his saints, The Holy God his great delight And let them raise in his high praise Lord, all thy works do speak thy praise And of his kingdom powerful, The glorious majesty. Thy kingdom everlasting is, O holy, holy, holy Lord, Who ever hath been, and still is, Worthy art thou, Lord, to receive For all the world was made by thee The song of Moses and the Lamb, Just are thy ways, thou King of saints, The Lamb is worthy, that was slain, For thou our souls redeemed hast THE FOURTH PART. O THAT mankind would praise the Lord. And let them offer sacrifice Of praise unto the Lord, His wond'rous works record. Sing to the Lord, and bless his name; O worship ye the world's great Lord! In beauteous holiness! Let all the earth with one accord Let the exalted heavens rejoice, O all his angels, bless the Lord! And all his laws fulfil. O bless the Lord, all ye his hosts, And ministers of his : And all his works through all the coasts Where his dominion is. Bless thou the Lord, my soul! my mouth His praises shall proclaim. Bless him all flesh; all that hath breath, Praise ye the Lord's great name. NIGHT. [MONTGOMERY.] NIGHT is the time for rest: How sweet, when labours close, To gather round an aching breast The curtain of repose, Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head Down on our own delightful bed! Night is the time for dreams; The gay romance of life, When truth that is, and truth that seems Mix in fantastic strife: Ah! visions, less beguiling far Than waking dreams by day-light are! Night is the time for toil; To plough the classic field, Night is the time to weep; To wet with unseen tears Those graves of memory where sleep Hopes, that were angels at their birth, But died when young like things of earth. |