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2 Depart from mischief, practise love,
Pursue the works of peace;
And set your souls at ease.
His ears attend their cry;
The God of grace is nigh. 4 When desolation, like a flood,
O'er the proud sinner rolls,
For he redeemed their souls.
The Hosanna of the Children. Ps. 8.
1 ALMIGHTY Ruler of the skies,
Through the wide earth thy name is spread, And thine eternal glories rise
O’er all the heavens thy hands have made. 2 To thee the voices of the young
A monument of honor raise,
Declare the wonders of thy praise.
3 Children amidst thy temple throng
To see their great Redeemer's face; The Son of David is their song,
And young hosannas fill the place.
WATTS. Colonies planted. A Psalm for New England. Ps. 107. 1 WHEN God, provoked with daring crimes,
Scourges the madness of the times,
2 His word can raise the springs again,
And make the withered mountains green, Send showery blessings from the skies, And harvests in the desert rise.
3 Where nothing dwelt but beasts of prey,
Or men as fierce and wild as they,
4 They sow the fields, and trees they plant,
Whose yearly fruit supplies their want; Their race grows up from fruitful stocks,
Their wealth increases with their flocks. 5 The righteous, with a joyful sense,
Admire the works of Providence,
Blaspheme the God that saints adore. 6 How few with pious care record
These wondrous dealings of the Lord !
That bound our goodly heritage, And safe beneath our sheltering vines
Our youth is blessed, and soothed our age. 2 What thanks, O God, to thee are due,
That thou didst plant our fathers here, And watch and guard them, as they grew,
A vineyard to the Planter dear! 3 The toils they bore our ease have wrought;
They sowed in tears — in joy we reap; The birthright they so dearly bought
We'll guard till we with them shall sleep. 4 Thy kindness to our fathers shown,
In weal and woe, through all the past, Their grateful sons, O God, shall own,
While here their name and race shall last.
J. Q. ADAMS. Hymn for the 22d of December. 1 WHEN, o'er the billow-heaving deep,
The fathers of our race,
Sought here their resting-place,
Preserved from every harm,
His everlasting arm.
3 His breath, inspiring every gale,
Impels them o'er the main ;
And tempests howl in vain. 4 For them old ocean's rocks are smoothed;
December's face grows mild;
And all their rage beguiled.
His ever-bounteous hand
And treasures from the sand.
His overruling plan
The heart of savage man. 7 And can our stony bosoms be
To all these wonders blind ?
O Parent of mankind ?
Dispense one blessing more;
Thy goodness to adore.
J. Q. Adams. Ps. 149. 1 SING to the Lord a song of praise ;
Assemble, ye who love his name;
Triumphant glory's loud acclain :
From earth's remotest regions come;
Come, greet your Maker and your King; With harp, with timbrel, and with drum,
His praise let hill and valley sing. 2 Your praise the Lord will not disdain;
The humble soul is his delight; Saints, on your couches swell the strain,
Break the dull stillness of the night; Rejoice in glory; bid the storm,
Bid thunder's voice his praise expand; And, while your lips the chorus form,
Grasp for the fight his vengeful brand. 3 Go forth in arms; Jehovah reigns;
Their graves let foul oppressors find; Bind all their sceptred kings in chains;
Their peers with iron fetters bind. Then to the Lord shall praise ascend;
Then all mankind, with one accord, And freedom's voice, till time shall end,
In pealing anthems, praise the Lord.
In wrath is slow to rise,
And darkness veils the skies.
2 His awful banners, lifted high,
The nations' God declare, And, stained with blood, with terrors marked,
Spread wonder and despair.