HYMN S, By ISAAC WATTS. A general Song of Praife to God. OW How glorious is our heav'nly King, Who reigns above the fky! How fhall a child presume to fing How great his pow'r is, none can tell, Not angels, that fland round the Lord, But they perform his heav'nly word, Then let me join this holy train, My heart refolves, my tongue obeys; To hear their mighty Maker's praife Sound from a feeble voice. Praife for Creation and Providence ISING th' almighty pow'r of God, I fing the Wisdom that ordain'd The moon fhines full at his command, I fing the goodness of the Lord, He form'd the creatures with his word, Lord, how thy wonders are difplay'd, There's not a plant or flow'r below But makes thy glories known; And clouds arife, and tempefts blow, By order from thy throne. Creatures (as num'rous as they be) Are fubject to thy care; There's not a place where we can flce, But God is prefent there. In In Heav'n he fhines with beams of love, His hand is my perpetual guard; Praife to God for our Redemption. That join'd in counsel to restore Our father ate forbidden fruit, And we his children thus were brought Bleft be the Lord that fent his Son To take our flesh and blood; He for our lives gave up To make our peace with God. Behold him rifing from the grave; He pleads his merit, there to save There on a glorious throne he reigns, Redeems us from the flavifh chains Of Satan and of fin. Thence fhall the Lord to judgment come, Shall call and break up ev'ry tomb, While waking faints rejoice. O may I then with joy appear Before the Judge's face! And, with the blefs'd affembly there, Sing him redeeming grace! Praife for Mercies Spiritual and Temporal, WHENE'ER I take my walks abroad, How many poor I fee! What fhall I render to my God For all his gifts to me! Not more than others I deferve, Yet God has giv'n me more; For I have food while others farve, Or beg from door to door, How How many children in the freet Half naked I behold! While I am cloth'd from head to feet. While fome poor wretches fcarce can tell While other early learn to fwear, Are thefe thy favours, day by day, To me above the reft ? Then let me love thee more than they, And try to ferve thee best. Praife for Birth and Education in a Chriftian Land. GREAT God! to thee my voice I raise, 'Tis to thy fov'reign grace I owe I would |