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[L. M.]

God in Every Thing.

TUNE-"Rockingham." "All Saints."

1 THERE's nothing bright above, below,
From flowers that bloom, to stars that glow,
But in its light my soul can see

Some feature, glorious God, of Thee.

2 There's nothing dark, below, above,
But in its gloom I trace Thy love;
And meekly wait that moment, when
Thy touch shall turn all bright again.

T. MOORE.

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[L. M.]

Morning Hymn.*

TUNE-" Hamburg."

1 IN sleep's serene oblivion laid,
I safely passed the silent night:
Again I see the breaking shade,
I drink again the morning light.

2 New-born, I bless the waking hour,

Once more, with awe, rejoice to be;
My conscious soul resumes her power,
And springs, my guardian God, to Thee.

3 O, guide me through the various maze
My doubtful feet are doomed to tread;
And spread thy shield's protecting blaze,
When dangers press around my head.

*This hymn was composed about a month before the author's death in 1773, and dictated to Mrs. Hawkesworth, before he rose in the morning.

4 A deeper shade shall soon impend,
A deeper sleep mine eyes oppress;
Yet then Thy strength shall still defend;
Thy goodness still delight to bless.

5 That deeper shade shall break away,
That deeper sleep shall leave mine eyes;
Thy light shall give eternal day!
Thy love, the rapture of the skies!

JOHN HAWKESWORTH,

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[6s. & 4s.]

National Hymn.

TUNE-"America."

1 My country! 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing.

Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims' pride;
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring.

2 My native country! thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love.

I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills,
My heart with rapture thrills,
Like that above.

3 Let-music swell the breeze,
And ring through all the trees;
Sweet freedom's song:

Let mortal tongues awake,
Let all that breathe partake,
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.

4 Our fathers' God! to Thee,
Author of liberty!
To Thee we sing.

Long may our land be bright,
With freedom's holy light;
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God, our King!

S. F. SMITH.

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[118.]

The Spirits of Bliss.

TUNE-"How cheering the thought."

1 How cheering the thought, that the spirits of bliss
Will bow their bright wings to a world such as this;
Will leave the sweet joys of the mansions above,
To breathe o'er our bosoms some message of love.

2 They come on the wings of the morning, they come,
Impatient to lead some poor wanderer home,
Some pilgrim to snatch from this stormy abode,
And lay him to rest in the arms of his God.
A. CUNNINGHAM.

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The Land of the Blest.

[11s 12s.]

AIR-"The last link is broken."

1 THE sunset is calm on the face of the deep,

And bright is the last look of day in the west; And broadly the beams of its parting glance sweep, Like the path that conducts to the Land of the Blest.

All golden and green is the sea, as it flows
In billows just heaving its tide to the shore,

And crimson and blue is the sky as it glows,
With colors that tell us that daylight is o'er.

2 The last line of light is now crossing the sea,
And the first star is lighting its lamp in the sky.
It seems that a sweet voice is calling to me,

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Like a bird on that pathway of brightness to fly Far, far o'er the wave is a green sunny isle,

Where the last cloud of evening now shines the west;

'Tis the island that spring ever woos with her smile O! seek it, the bright, happy Land of the Blest.

[8s & 7s.]

A Funeral Hymn.*

TUNE-" Mount Vernon."

1 SISTER, thou wast mild and lovely,
Gentle as the summer breeze,
Pleasant as the air of evening,
When it floats among the trees.

2 Peaceful be thy silent slumber,
Peaceful in the grave so low;
Thou no more wilt join our number,
Thou no more our songs shalt know.

3 Dearest sister, thou hast left us,
Here thy loss we deeply feel;
But 'tis God that hath bereft us-
He can all our sorrows heal.

4 Yet again we hope to meet thee,
When the day of life is fled;

*Originally written on the occasion of the death of Miss M. J. a member of the Mount Vernon School, Boston, July 13, 1833. music is by Lowell Mason.

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Then in heaven with joy to greet thee,
Where no farewell tear is shed.

S. F. SMITH.

[8s & 4s.]

Heaven.

AIR-" Near the Lake."

1 LIKE a dream when one awaketh,

Vanished away,

Earthly joy the heart forsaketh,
Doomed to decay.

But when flesh and spirit faileth,
Heaven grows more dear;

And when grief the heart assaileth,
O, shed no tear!

2 Dearest hopes and joys may perish,
Lost in an hour;

All the love the heart can cherish,
May lose its power.

When the storm is gathering o'er thee,
Do not despair;

Heaven can every joy restore thee,
More pure and fair.

3 Mid thy gloom and desolation,
Whene'er they come,

For thy peace and consolation,
Think of thy home;

There thy joys shall last forever,
Changeless and bright;

Clouds shall dim, O never, never,

That world of light.

MRS. M. S. B. DANA.*

*Of Charleston, S. C., authoress of the "Northern and the Southern Harp," and other lyrical publications.

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