But this with boldness I proclaim, Nor care if thousands hear: And can you frown, my former friends, Trust me, I draw the likeness true, And not as fancy paints; Such honour may He give to you, ANONYMOUS.] WHAT THO' I TRACE. [Tune-"Windsor." WHAT, tho' I trace each herb and flower How vain were all I knew! Say what's the rest but empty boast, WORTHY THE LAMB. DR. ISAAC WATTS.] [Tune-" Bristol." COME, let us join our cheerful songs With angels round the Throne ; Ten thousand thousand are their tongues, "Worthy the Lamb that died," they cry, "Worthy the Lamb !" our lips reply, "For He was slain for us. Jesus is worthy to receive And blessings, more than we can give, Let all that dwell above the sky, The whole Creation join in one THE HEART'S SONG. In the silent midnight watches, How it knocketh, knocketh, knocketh, Say not 'tis thy pulse's beating; 'Tis thy Saviour knocks, and crieth, Rise, and let me in! Death comes down with reckless footstep Think you death will stand a-knocking But thy door is fast! Grieved, away thy Saviour goeth; Then 'tis thine to stand entreating At the gate of heaven beating Wailing for thy sin. Nay, alas! thou foolish virgin, Jesus waited long to know thee, CHRIST'S FLOCK. WILLIAM HILES BATHURST.] [Tune-"Lincoln." SHEPHERD of Israel, from above Thy feeble flock behold, And let us never lose Thy love, Thou wilt not cast Thy lambs away; To guide them lest they go astray, Thy tender care supports the weak, Then teach us, Lord, Thy praise to speak, We want Thy help, for we are frail; Teach us the things we ought to know; And may we find them true; And still, in stature as we grow, Guide us through life; and when at last We enter into rest, Thy tender arms around us cast, And fold us to Thy breast! ISRAEL RESTORED. [WILLIAM HURN.], O HOUSE of Jacob, come, O thou by tempests toss'd, With grief familiar grown, Though thou art fill'd, alas! To them that hated thee; But know, we honour Israel's name, Rise, Jacob, from thy woes, And thy Messiah see; Has not forgotten thee; At His command, we bid you come; ISAAC WATTS.] PSALM LXV. [Tune-"Melcombe." ON God the race of man depends, He bids the noisy tempests cease; Whole kingdoms, shaken by the storm, Behold His ensigns sweep the sky; At His command the morning ray Seasons and times obey His voice; "Tis from His watery stores on high The desert grows a fruitful field, Thy works pronounce Thy power divine; |