HYMNS.

"Let little children come to me,"— This is what the Saviour said; Little children, come and see Where these gracious words are read. Often on these pages look,— Of the love of God they tell; 'Tis indeed a holy book,— Learn to read and love it well. Thus you hear the Saviour speak,— "Come ye all and learn of me"; He was gentle, lowly, meek,— So should all his followers be. When our Saviour from above, From his Father did descend, He took them in his arms of love, And children knew him for their friend. All little children Jesus blessed,— Blessed in innocence they are; Little children he caressed; Praise him in your infant prayer.

Praise to God! O let us raise From our hearts a song of praise! Of that goodness let us sing Whence our lives and blessings spring. Praise to him who made the light, Praise to him who gave us sight, Praise to him who formed the ear; Will he not his children hear? Praise him for our happy hours, Praise him for our varied powers, For these thoughts that rise above, For these hearts he made for love, For the voice he placed within, Bearing witness when we sin; Praise to him whose tender care Keeps this watchful guardian there. Praise his mercy, that did send Jesus for our guide and friend; Praise him, every heart and voice, Him who makes all worlds rejoice.

"What, mother, makes it seem to me, When I am all alone, As if some one could hear and see, And all my thoughts were known? "Sometimes it makes me very glad, And dance and sing with joy; Sometimes it makes me very sad, And frights your little boy. "O, tell me, mother, tell me why; For I have never known Why 'tis I laugh, or why I cry, When I am all alone." "My child, you never are alone; There is a watchful eye To which your very thoughts are known; 'Tis God is ever nigh. "He made your little heart for joy, He tunes your happy song; O, then, my little timid boy, Fear only doing wrong. "For he who makes your heart so glad, Who bids the good be gay, With the same love will make it sad, Whene'er you disobey. "He is our Father, and he hears Your weakest, faintest prayer; He wipes away an infant's tears, And children are his care."

Almighty Father! I am weak, But thou wilt strengthen me, If from my heart I humbly seek For help and light from thee. When I am tempted to do wrong, Then, Father, pity me, And make my failing virtue strong; Help me to think of thee! Let Christian courage guard my youth; That courage give to me Which ever speaks and acts the truth, And puts its trust in thee.

Will God, who made the earth and sea, The night, and shining day, Regard a little child like me, And listen when I pray? If I am hungry, poor, and cold, Then will he hear my cry? And when I shall be sick and old, O, then will God be nigh? Yes; in his holy word we read Of his unfailing love; And when his mercy most we need, His mercy he will prove. To those who seek him, he is near; He looks upon the heart, And from the humble and sincere He never will depart. He sees our thoughts, our wishes knows, He hears our faintest prayer; Where'er the faithful Christian goes, He finds his Father there. Obedient children need not fear; God is a faithful friend, And when no other help is near, He will deliverance send. Then fear not hunger, cold, or pain, But fear to disobey That power which does your life sustain, And guards you every day.

How sweet to be allowed to pray To God, the Holy One, With filial love and trust to say,— "Father, thy will be done!" We in these sacred words can find A cure for every ill; They calm and soothe the troubled mind, And bid all care be still. O, let that will, which gave me breath And an immortal soul, In joy or grief, in life or death, My every wish control! O, could my heart thus ever pray, Thus imitate thy Son! Teach me, O God, with truth to say,— "Thy will, not mine, be done!"

How sweet upon this sacred day, The best of all the seven, To cast our earthly thoughts away, And think of God and heaven! How sweet to be allowed to pray Our sins may be forgiven; With filial confidence to say, "Father, who art in heaven"! With humble hope to bend the knee, And, free from folly's leaven, Confess that we have strayed from thee, Thou righteous Judge in heaven! And if to make all sin depart In vain the will has striven, He who regards the inmost heart Will send his grace from heaven. If from the bosom that is dear By cold unkindness driven, The heart that knows no refuge here Shall find a friend in heaven. Then hail, thou sacred, blessed day, The best of all the seven, When hearts unite their vows to pay Of gratitude to Heaven.

How sweet to lay my weary head Upon my quiet little bed, And feel assured, that all day long I have not knowingly done wrong! How sweet to hear my mother say, "You have been very good to-day!" How sweet to see my father's joy When he can say, "My dear, good boy!" How sweet it is my thoughts to send To many a dear-loved distant friend, And feel, if they my heart could see, How very happy they would be! How sweet to think that He whose love Made all these shining worlds above My pure and happy heart can see, And loves a little boy like me.

Thou art good! Each perfumed flower, Waving fields, the dark green wood, The insect fluttering for an hour,— All things proclaim that God is good. I hear it in each breath of wind; The hills that have for ages stood, And clouds with gold and silver lined, All still repeat that God is good. Each little rill, that many a year Has the same verdant path pursued, And every bird, in accents clear, Joins in the song that God is good. The restless sea, with haughty roar, Calms each wild wave and billow rude, Retreats submissive from the shore, And swells the chorus, "God is good." The countless hosts of twinkling stars, That sing his praise with light renewed; The rising sun each day declares, In rays of glory, God is good. The moon, that walks in brightness, says, That God is good! and man, endued With power to speak his Maker's praise, Should still repeat that God is good.

How beautiful the setting sun! The clouds how bright and gay! The stars, appearing one by one, How beautiful are they! And when the moon climbs up the sky, And sheds her gentle light, And hangs her crystal lamp on high, How beautiful is night! And can it be I am possessed Of something brighter far? Glows there a light within this breast Outshining every star? Yes; should the sun and stars turn pale, The mountains melt away, This flame within shall never fail, But live in endless day. This is the soul that God has given,— Sin may its lustre dim; While goodness bears it up to heaven, And leads it back to him.

My Heavenly Father! all I see, Around me and above, Sends forth a hymn of praise to thee, And speaks thy boundless love. The clear blue sky is full of thee, The woods so dark and lone; The soft south-wind, the sounding sea, Worship the Holy One. The humming of the insect throng, The prattling, sparkling rill, The birds, with their melodious song, Repeat thy praises still. And thou dost hear them every one,— Father, thou hearest me; I know that I am not alone, When I but think of thee.

It was my Heavenly Father's love Brought every being forth; He made the shining worlds above, And every thing on earth. Each lovely flower, the smallest fly, The sea, the waterfall, The bright green fields, the clear blue sky,— 'Tis God that made them all. He gave me all my friends, and taught My heart to love them well, And he bestowed the power of thought, And speech my thoughts to tell. My father and my mother dear,— He is their father too; He bids me all their precepts hear, And all they teach me, do. God sees and hears me all the day, And 'mid the darkest night; He views me when I disobey, And when I act aright. He guards me with a parent's care, When I am all alone; My hymn of praise, my humble prayer, He hears them every one. God hears what I am saying now,— O, what a wondrous thought! My Heavenly Father, teach me how To love thee as I ought.

As through the pathless fields of air Wandered forth the timid dove, So the heart, in humble prayer, Essays to reach the throne of love. Like her it may return unblest, Like her again may soar, And still return and find no rest, No peaceful, happy shore. But now once more she spreads her wings, And takes a bolder flight, And see! the olive-branch she brings, To bless her master's sight. And thus the heart renews its strength, Though spent and tempest-driven, And higher soars, and brings at length A pledge of peace with Heaven.

What was in the viewless wind, Wild rushing through the oak, Seemed to my listening, dreaming mind As though a spirit spoke? What is it to the murmuring stream Doth give so sweet a song, That on its tide my thoughts do seem To pour themselves along? What is it on the dizzy height, What in each glowing star, That speaks of things beyond the sight, And questions what they are? What in the rolling thunder's voice, What in the ocean's roar, Hears the grand chorus, "O, rejoice!" Echo from shore to shore? What in the gentle moon doth see Pure thoughts and tender love, And hears delicious melody Around, below, above? What bids the savage tempest speak Of terror and dismay, And wakes the agonizing shriek Of guilt that fears to pray? It is this ever-living mind; This little throb of life Hears its own echoes in the wind, And in the tempest's strife; To all that's sweet, and bright, and fair, Its own affections gives; Sees its own image everywhere, Through all creation lives. It bids the everlasting hills Give back the solemn tone; This boundless arch of azure fills With accents all its own. What is this life-inspiring mind, This omnipresent thought? How shall it ever utterance find For all itself hath taught? To Him who breathed the heavenly flame, Its mysteries are known; It seeks the source from whence it came, And rests in God alone.

God, who dwellest everywhere God, who makest all thy care, God, who hearest every prayer, Thou who see'st the heart; Thou to whom we lift our eyes. Father, help our souls to rise, And, beyond these narrow skies, See thee as thou art! Let our anxious thoughts be still, Holy trust adore thy will, Holy love our bosoms fill, Let our songs ascend! Dearest friends may parted be, All our earthly treasures flee, Yet we never part from thee, Our eternal Friend.

Help me, O God, to trust in thee, Thou high and holy One! And may my troubled spirit flee For rest to thee alone. In thee alone the soul can find Secure and sweet repose; And thou canst bid the desert mind To blossom as the rose. Let not this spirit, formed to rise Where angels claim their birth, Forsake its home beyond the skies, And cling to barren earth. The bird of passage knows the sign That warns him to depart; Shall I not heed the voice divine, That whispers in my heart,— "Up! plume thy wings, soar far away! No longer idly roam! Fly to the realms of endless day; For this is not thy home." This still, small voice, O, may I hear! Ere clouds and darkness come, And thunders in my startled ear Proclaim my final doom. Father! to thee my spirit cries! Thy wandering child reclaim. Speak! and my dying faith shall rise, And wake a deathless flame.

Thou, from whom we never part, Thou, whose love is everywhere, Thou who seest every heart, Listen to our evening prayer. Father! fill our souls with love, Love unfailing, full, and free, Love no injury can move, Love that ever rests on thee. Heavenly Father! through the night Keep us safe from every ill; Cheerful as the morning light, May we wake to do thy will.

Sweet Summer, with her flowers, has past, I hear her parting knell; I hear the moaning, fitful blast, Sighing a sad farewell. But, while she fades and dies away, In rainbow hues she glows; Like the last smile of parting day, Still brightening as she goes. The robin whistles clear and shrill; Sad is the cricket's song; The wind, wild rushing o'er the hill, Bears the dead leaf along. I love this sober, solemn time, This twilight of the year; To me, sweet Spring, in all her prime, Was never half so dear. While death has set his changing seal On all that meets the eye, 'Tis rapture, then, within to feel The soul that cannot die;— To look far, far beyond this sky, To Him who changes never. This earth, these heavens, shall change and die; God is the same for ever.

This is the day when Jesus woke From the deep slumbers of the tomb; This is the day the Saviour broke The bonds of fear and hopeless gloom. This is indeed a holy day; No longer may we dread to die. Let every fear be cast away, And tears be wiped from every eye. Sorrow and pain the Saviour knew; A dark and thorny path he trod; But heaven was ever in his view,— That toilsome path led up to God. Let every heart rejoice and sing; Let every sin and sorrow cease; Let children come this day and bring Their offering of love and peace.

Cease, my complaining spirit, cease; Know 'tis a Father's hand you feel; It leads you to the realms of peace; It kindly only wounds to heal. My Father! what a holy joy Bursts on the sad, desponding mind, To say, when fiercest ills annoy,— "I know my Father still is kind!" This bids each trembling fear be still, Checks every murmur, every sigh; Patience then waits his sovereign will, Rejoiced to live,—resigned to die. O blessed ministry of pain! To teach the soul its real worth; To lead it to that source again, From whence it first derived its birth.

Christian! when, overwhelmed with grief and care, Thou prayest for the help that thou dost need, As shipwrecked mariner for life will plead, O, then for faith pour forth the fervent prayer! 'Tis faith alone life's heavy ills can bear. O, mark her calm, far-seeing, quickening eye, Full of the light of immortality! It tells of worlds unseen, and calls us there; That look of hers can save thee from despair. When sorrow, like thick darkness, gathers round, And all life's flowers are fading in the dust, Faith lifts our drooping vision from the ground,— Says, that the hand that smites us yet is just; That human agony hath ever found The mighty God a never-failing trust.

Great Source of being, Father all-seeing! We bow before thee; Our souls adore thee; Help us obey thee; Guide us aright; Keep us, we pray thee, Through the long night. Thou kind, forgiving God of all living, Thy power defend us, Thy peace attend us, While we are closing This day in prayer, Ever reposing Under thy care.

Before I close my eyes to-night, Let me myself these questions ask:— Have I endeavoured to do right, Nor thought my duty was a task? Have I been gentle, lowly, meek, And the small voice of conscience heard? When passion tempted me to speak, Have I repressed the angry word? Have I with cheerful zeal obeyed What my kind parents bid me do, And not by word or action said The thing that was not strictly true? In hard temptation's troubled hour, Then have I stopped to think and pray, That God would give my soul the power To chase the sinful thought away? O Thou who seest all my heart, Wilt thou forgive and love me still! Wilt thou to me new strength impart, And make me love to do thy will!

The sun in smiles doth dress his face, As evening comes to take his place; So looks the parting loved-one, when He means to quickly come again. With moon and stars all sparkling bright, Advances now the silent night; And with the calm and gentle moon, Sweet peace doth quietly come on. Who at the moon and stars can gaze Without a gush of love and praise? And now it is the midnight hour, And sleep asserts her soothing power. But see, the flickering light is gone, That from my neighbour's window shone; His simple household prayer is said, He rests from toil, on his hard bed. Yet still the watchman wakes, and still Faithful till morning watch he will; But vain, O watchman! is thy care, If God, the Guardian, be not there. By my dull lamp, whose light's near gone, In my small room I sit alone, And, thinking o'er past joys and pain, A sweet contentment doth remain. He's still my trust; he, the true Shepherd, never Will forsake his sheep,—he watcheth ever; The mother may forget her child, but yet Thus saith the Lord,—"Thee I will not forget." I rest in peace, I trust in Thee; Thy faithful eye still watcheth me; For He who ever wakes and lives To loving hearts no night e'er gives.

Hope, my heart, in patience hope,— Thou at last thy flowers shalt gather; God is full of tender love,— Childlike speak thou to thy Father. From believing, trusting hearts, The God of mercy ne'er departs. Clouds may come, and clouds may go, Rest upon his goodness always; To those joyful, sunny heights Lead these rough and gloomy pathways; Wakes for aye his Eye of Light,— Tremble not in storm and night. Anchored on the Eternal Rock, To the heart of God fast clinging, Tell him all thy deepest woes, Before him all thy sorrows bringing; He is kind, and comfort gives To every sorrowing heart that lives. Let true faith strong courage give; Strength the Helper now is sending; Soon thou'lt understand His ways, Soon thou'lt find thy sorrows ending. God! who life and goodness art! In patience hope in Him, my heart.

It is in failure, in distress, When, reft of all, it stands alone, And not in what men call success, The noble, valiant soul is known. He who perfection makes his aim Shoots at a mark he may not reach; The world may laugh, the world may blame. And what it calls discretion preach. And he will fail to win the goal Which low ambition makes its own; But, far beyond, his earnest soul Stands in the light, though all alone. It was through insult, pain, and loss That Jesus won immortal power; Thus the great failure of the cross Was his triumphant, glorious hour. Think not of failure or success; He fails who has a low desire. Up to the highest ever press, Still onward, upward, higher! higher! Make such thy purpose, such thy aim, That they who watch thy spirit's flight Shall look to heaven from whence it came, And loose thee in celestial light.