1 Join, every tongue, to praise the Lord; All nature rests upon his word; Mercy and truth his courts maintain, And own his universal reign.

2 Seasons and times obey his voice; The evening and the morn rejoice To see the earth made soft with showers, Enriched with fruit, and dressed in flowers.

3 Thy works p.r.o.nounce thy power divine; In all the earth thy glories shine; Through every month thy gifts appear; Great G.o.d, thy goodness crowns the year.

884. L. M. L. H. Sigourney.

Harvest.

1 G.o.d of the year! with songs of praise And hearts of love, we come to bless Thy bounteous hand, for thou hast shed Thy manna o'er our wilderness.

2 In early spring-time thou didst fling O'er earth its robe of blossoming; And its sweet treasures, day by day, Rose quickening in thy blessed ray.

3 G.o.d of the seasons! thou hast blest The land with sunlight and with showers, And plenty o'er its bosom smiles To crown the sweet autumnal hours.

4 Praise,--praise to thee! Our hearts expand To view these blessings of thy hand, And on the incense-breath of love Ascend to their bright home above.

885. L. P. M. Kippis.

Thanksgiving for National Prosperity.

1 How rich thy gifts, Almighty King!

From thee our public blessings spring; Th' extended trade, the fruitful skies, The treasures liberty bestows, Th' eternal joys the gospel shows,-- All from thy boundless goodness rise.

2 Here commerce spreads the wealthy store, Which pours from every foreign sh.o.r.e; Science and art their charms display; Religion teaches us to raise Our voices to our Maker's praise, As truth and conscience point the way.

3 With grateful hearts, with joyful tongues, To G.o.d we raise united songs; His power and mercy we proclaim; This land through every age shall own, Jehovah here has fixed his throne, And triumph in his mighty name.

4 Long as the moon her course shall run, Or man behold the circling sun, O, still may G.o.d amidst us reign; Crown our just counsels with success, With peace and joy our borders bless, And all our sacred rights maintain.

886. L. M. Doddridge.

New Year's Day.

1 Great G.o.d, we sing that mighty hand, By which, supported still, we stand: The opening year thy mercy shows; Let mercy crown it till it close.

2 By day, by night, at home, abroad, Still we are guarded by our G.o.d; By his incessant bounty fed, By his unerring counsel led.

3 With grateful hearts the past we own: The future, all to us unknown, We to thy guardian care commit, And peaceful leave before thy feet,

4 In scenes exalted or depressed, Be thou our joy, and thou our rest: Thy goodness all our hopes shall raise, Adored through all our changing days.

5 When death shall interrupt these songs, And seal in silence mortal tongues, Our Helper, G.o.d, in whom we trust, In better worlds our souls shall boast.

887. C. M. Doddridge.

Reflections for a New Year.

1 Remark, my soul, the narrow bounds Of the revolving year; How swift the weeks complete their rounds!

How short the months appear!

2 Yet like an idle tale we pa.s.s The swift advancing year; And study artful ways t' increase The speed of its career.

3 Waken, O G.o.d, my trifling heart, Its great concerns to see; That I may act the Christian part, And give the year to thee.

4 Thus shall their course more grateful roll, If future years arise; Or this shall bear my peaceful soul To joy that never dies.

888. 7s. M. Newton.

New Year's Day.

1 While, with ceaseless course, the sun Hasted through the former year, Many souls their race have run, Never more to meet us here: Fixed in an eternal state, They have done with all below: We a little longer wait, But how little none can know.

2 As the winged arrow flies, Speedily the mark to find; As the lightning from the skies Darts and leaves no trace behind;-- Swiftly thus our fleeting days Bear us down life's rapid stream: Upward, Lord, our spirits raise; All below is but a dream.

3 Thanks for mercies past receive; Pardon of our sins renew; Teach us, henceforth, how to live, With eternity in view; Bless thy word to old and young; Fill us with a Saviour's love; When our life's short race is run, May we dwell with thee above.

889. L. M. Doddridge.

The Same.

1 My helper, G.o.d, I bless his name; The same his power, his grace the same; The tokens of his friendly care Open, and crown, and close, the year.

2 I 'midst ten thousand dangers stand, Supported by his guardian hand, And see, when I survey my ways, Ten thousand monuments of praise.