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5 In spite of all my foes,

Thou dost my table spread ;
My cup with blessings overflows,

And joy exalts my head. 6 The bounties of thy love

Shall crown my following days,
Nor from thy house will I remove,

Nor cease to speak thy praise.

152
L. M. 6L.

ADDISON. God our Shepherd. Ps. 23. 1 THE Lord my pasture shall prepare,

And feed me with a shepherd's care;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noonday walks he shall attend,

And all my midnight hours defend. 2 When in the sultry glebe I faint,

I
Or on the thirsty mountain pant,
To fertile vales and dewy meads
My weary, wandering steps he leads;
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,

Amid the verdant landscape flow.
3 Though in a bare and rugged way,

Through devious, lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my pains beguile;
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crowned,

And streams shall murmur all around. 4. Though in the paths of death I tread,

With gloomy horrors overspread,

My steadfast heart shall fear no ill;
For thou, O Lord, art with me still ;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.

153
7 M.

MERRICK. God our Shepherd. Ps. 23. 1 LO, my Shepherd's hand divine !

Want shall never more be mine;
In a pasture fair and large,

He shall feed his happy charge.
2 When I faint with summer's heat,

He shall lead my weary feet
To the streams that, still and slow,

Through the verdant meadow flow. 3 3 He my soul anew shall frame,

And, his mercy to proclaim,
When through devious paths I stray,

Teach my steps the better way. 4 Thou my plenteous board hast spread;

Thou with oil refreshed my head;
Filled by thee, my cup o'erflows;

For thy love no limit knows: 5 Constant, to my latest end,

This my footsteps shall attend,
And shall bid thy hallowed dome
Yield me an eternal home.

11 *

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154

C. M.

J. R. ADAMS

Ps. 23.

1 MY Shepherd is the Lord on high;

His hand supplies me still;
In pastures green he makes me lie,

Beside the rippling rill :
He cheers my soul, relieves my woes,

His glory to display ;
The paths of righteousness he shows,

And leads me in his way.

2 Though walking through death's dismal shade,

No evil will I fear;
Thy rod, thy staff shall lend me aid,

For thou art ever near :
For me a table thou dost spread

In presence of my foes;
With oil thou dost anoint my head ;

By thee my cup o'erflows.

3 Thy goodness and thy mercy sure

Shall bless me all my days; And I, with lips sincere and pure,

Will celebrate thy praise :
Yes, in the temple of the Lord

Forever I will dwell;
To after time thy name record,

And of thy glory tell.

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1 IF God to build the house deny,

The builders work in vain ;
And towns, without his wakeful eye,

A useless watch maintain.
2 Before the morning beams arise,

Your painful work renew,
And, till the stars ascend the skies,
Your tiresome toil

pursue ; 3 Short be your sleep, and coarse your fare ;

In vain — till God has blessed ;
But if his smiles attend your care,

You shall have food and rest.
4 Nor children, relatives, nor friends,

Shall real blessings prove,
Nor all the earthly joys he sends,

If sent without his love.

156
L. M.

BROWNE. Dependence upon Providence. 1 GREAT Lord of earth, and seas, and skies,

Thy wealth the needy world supplies;
And safe beneath thy guardian arm,

We live secured from every harm. 2 To thee perpetual thanks we owe

For all our comforts here below;
Our daily bread thy bounty gives,
And every rising want relieves.

3 To thee we cheerful homage bring ;

In grateful hymns thy praises sing ;
On thee we ever will depend –

The rich, the sure, the faithful Friend.
4 And, should thy measures seem severe,

Calmly may we thy chastening bear;
Without complaint to thee submit,
The unerring Judge of what is fit.

157
C. M.

Scott.
Divine Providence, and the Folly of Self-Dependence.
1 GOD reigns; events in order flow,

Man's industry to guide,
But in a different channel go

To humble human pride.
2 The swift not always in the race

Shall win the crowning prize;
Not always wealth and honor grace

The labors of the wise.
3 Fond mortals do themselves beguile,

When on themselves they rest;
Blind is their wisdom, vain their toil,

By thee, O Lord, unblest.
4 'Tis ours the furrows to prepare,

And sow the precious grain ;
'Tis thine to give the sun and air,

And to command the rain.
5 Evil and good before thee stand,

Their mission to perform;
The sun shines bright at thy command;

Thy hand directs the storm.

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