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'LORD, I am pain’d; but I resign

4 Praise to the Lord, who staid the sword

And said, “ it is enough ;" Praise to the Lord, who makes his saints

Triumphant e'en in death.
5 Our God, in thine appointed hour

Those heav'nly gates display,
Where pain, and sickness, fear and death

For ever fleç away.
6 There, while the nations of the bless'd,

With raptures bow around,
Our anthems to deliy'ring grące,
In sweeter strains shall sound.

HYMN 113. C. M.

Complaint and hope in Siokness, f

My body ta thy will :

'tis wisdom all divinę,
Appoints the pains I feel.
2 Dark are thy ways of providence,

While they, who love thee, groan:
Thy reasons lie conceal'd from sense,

Mysterious and unknown.
3 Yet nature may have leave to speak,

And plead before her God,
Lest the o'erburden'd heart should break

Beneath thy heavy rod. 4 These mournful groans and flowing tears,

Give my poor spirit ease :
While ev'ry groan my Father hears,

And ev'ry tear he sees.
5 Is not some smiling hour at hand

With health upon its wings?
Give it, O God, thy swift command,

With all the joys it brings.

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HYMN 114. C. M.

Praise for recovery from Sickness. 1 Y God, thy service well demands

The remnant of my days; Why was this fleeting breath renew'd,

But to renew thy praise ? 2 Thine arms of everlasting love

Did this weak frame sustain 1; When life was hov'ring o'er the grave,

And nature sunk with pain.
3 Calmly I bow'd my fainting head

On thy dear faithful breast;
Pleas'd to obey my Father's call

To his eternal rest.
4 Into thy hands, my Saviour-God,

Did I my soul resign:
In firm dependence on that truth,

Which made salvation mine.
5 Back from the borders of the grave,

At thy command I come :
Nor will I urge a speedier flight,

To my celestial home. 6 Where thou determin'st mine abode,

There would I choose to be;
For in thy presence death is life,
And earth is heav'n with thee.

HYMN 115. S. M.

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With gratitude we own :
We bless thy providential grace,

Which show'rs its blessings down. 2 With joy the people bring

Their off rings round thy throne ;

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With thankful souls behold we pay

A tribute of thy own.
3 Accept this humble mite

Great Sov’reign Lord of all;
Nor let our num'rous mingling sins,

The fragrant ointment spoil.
4 Let a Redeemer's blood

Diffuse its virtues wide;
Hallow and cleanse our ev'ry gift

And all our follies hide.
5 O may this sacrifice

To thee the Lord ascend,
An odour of a sweet perfume,

Presented by his hand.
6 Well pleas’d our God shall view

The products of his grace ;
And in a plentiful reward
Fulfil his promises.

HYMN 116. L. M.

Į THE gold and silver are the Lord's

And ev'ry blessing earth affords ;
All come from his propitious hand,

And must return at his command.
2 The blessings which I now enjoy,

I must for Christ and souls employ;
For if I use them as my own,

My Lord will soon call in his loan.
3 When I to him in want apply,

He never does my suit deny ;
And shall I then refuse to give,

Since I so much from him receive ?
4 Shall Jesus leave the realms of day,

And clothe himself in humble clay?

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Shall he become despis'd and poor,

To make me rich for evermore ?
5 And shall I wickedly withhold,

To give my silver and my gold ?
To aid a cause my soul approves,
And save the sinners Jesus loves ?
6 Expand my heart—incline me, Lord,

To give the whole I can afford ;
That, what thy bounty renders mine,
I may with cheerful hands resign.

HYMN 117. L. M.

"WHEN Jesus dwelt in mortal clay,

What were his works from day to day,
But miracles of pow'r and grace,

That spread salvation thro' our race ?
2 Teach us, O Lord, to keep in view

Thy pattern, and thy steps pursue ;
Let alms bestow'd, let kindness done

Be witness'd by each rolling sun.
3 That man may breathe, but never lives,

Who much receives, but nothing gives,
Whom none can love, whom none can thank;

Creation's blot, creation's blank :
4 But he, who marks from day to day,

In gen’rous acts his radiant way,
Treads the same path his Saviour trod,
The path to glory and to God.

HYMN 118. C. M.

ESUS, my Lord, how rich thy grace !

Thy bounties how complete !
How shall I count the matchless sum?
How pay the mighty debt ?

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2 High on a throne of radiant light

Dost thou exalted shine ;
What can my poverty bestow,

When all the worlds are thine ? 3 But thou hast brethren here below,

The partners of thy grace;
And wilt confess their humble names

Before thy Father's face.
4 In them thou may'st be cloth'd and fed,

And visited and cheer'd ;
And in their accents of distress,

My Saviour's voice is heard.
5 Thy face, with rev'rence and with love,

We in thy poor would see ;
O let us rather beg our bread
Than keep it back from thee!

HYMN 119. C. M.

10 WHAT stupendous mercy shines

Around the majesty of heav’n !
Rebels he deigns to call his sons,

Their souls renew'd, their sins forgiv'n. 2 Go, imitate the grace divine,

The grace that blazes like a sun ;
Hold forth your fair, tho’ feeble light,

Thro' all your lives let mercy run. 3 Upon your bounty's willing wings,

Swift fy your gifts and charity;
The hungry feed, the naked clothe,

To pain and sickness help apply. 4. Pity the weeping widow's woe,

And be her counsellor and stay;
Adopt the fatherless, and smooth




To useful, happy life, his way.

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