What impious numbers, bold in sin, 4 O! turn us, turn us, mighty Lord, Then shall our hearts obey thy word, 5 Then, should insulting foes invade, Since God, our God, is near. On a Fast-day during Pestilence or general Sickness. DEATH, with his dread commission seal'd, Now hastens to his arms; In awful state he takes the field, 3 With cruel force he scatters round 4 Diseases are thy servants, Lord, They come at thy command: 5 Yet, may we plead with humble cries, 6 In anger, Lord, rebuke us not, Nor let thy fury grow so hot, Against poor feeble worms. 7 O! hear when dust and ashes speak, And pity all our pain ; 1 O! save us, for thy mercy's sake, T HYMN 110. C. M. Thanksgiving for Victory. O thee, who reign'st supreme above, Thou God of wisdom, pow'r, and love, 2 The thund'ring horse, the martial band 'Tis thou hast rais'd our honours high, 4 Their mounds, their camps, their lofty tow'rs Into our hands are giv❜n ; Not from desert nor strength of ours, 5 The Lord of hosts, our helper lives; "Tis his own arm the vict'ry gives : Thanksgiving for national Peace. GREAT Ruler of the earth and skies, A word of thine almighty breath Can sink the world, or bid it rise: 2 When angry nations rush to arms, And slaughter spreads the hostile plains; 3 Thy Sov'reign eye looks calmly down, And marks their course, and bounds their Thy word the angry nations own, [pow'r : And noise and war are heard no more. 4 Then peace returns with balmy wing, 3 Thou good, and wise, and righteous Lord, 1 S HYMN 112. C. M. Thanksgiving for health after Pestilence. And, since we've smarted by thy rod, 2 To thee in our distress we cried, 4 Praise to the Lord, who staid the sword And said, "it is enough;" Praise to the Lord, who makes his saints Triumphant e'en in death. 5 Our God, in thine appointed hour Those heav'nly gates display, Where pain, and sickness, fear and death 6 There, while the nations of the bless'd, HYMN 113. C. M. Complaint and hope in Sickness. LORD, I am pain'd; but I resign 'Tis grace, 'tis wisdom all divine, 2 Dark are thy ways of providence, 3 Yet nature may have leave to speak, Lest the o'erburden'd heart should break 4 These mournful groans and flowing tears, Give my poor spirit ease: While ev'ry groan my Father hears, 5 Is not some smiling hour at hand HYMN 114. C. M. Praise for recovery from Sickness. 1 MY God, thy service well demands The remnant of my days; 2 Thine arms of everlasting love 4 Into thy hands, my Saviour-God, In firm dependence on that truth, 5 Back from the borders of the grave, 6 Where thou determin'st mine abode, 1 THY HYMN 115. S. M. Charity. HY bounties, gracious Lord, We bless thy providential grace, 2 With joy the people bring |