I know them, and I know fall well The wickedness they're planning, Their hearts with ev'ry evil swell, No good them e'er restraining.

But Thou, the faithful One, Lord, art, And those who choose Thee for their part, Thou nevermore forsakest.

My soul doth calmly trust in Thee, Thou true to me remainest, Of malice and of subtlety The course, with pow'r restrainest.

This makes my heart with joy o'erflow, That willingly dost Thou bestow Salvation on the trusting.

O Lord! for aye I'll trust in Thee, Thou'rt my sole joy for ever; Thou doest well, protectest me, From sorrow dost deliver.

And therefore I my whole life long, Will sing Thee oft a gladsome song Of praise and of thanksgiving.

Songs of Praise and Thanksgiving.

IN GRATEFUL SONGS.

In grateful songs your voices raise, All people here below, To Him whom angels ever praise, In heav'n His glory show.

With gladsome songs now fill the air To G.o.d our chiefest Joy, Who worketh wonders ev'rywhere, Whose hands great things employ;

Who from the womb to latest years Upholds the life He gave; Who when no help from man appears Himself appears to save;

Who though our way His heart oft grieves, Maintains a gracious mood, Remits the pains, the sin forgives, And doth us nought but good.

Oh, may He give a joyous heart, The mind from sorrow keep, And cast all care, fear, grief, and smart Into the ocean deep.

And may His blessing ever rest On Israel's favour'd head; May all we do by Him be bless'd, May His salvation spread.

May love and goodness toward us flow, In bounteous streams each day, And every anxious care we know, Be chas'd by Him away.

As long as beats each throbbing heart, Our Saviour may He be, Our portion when from earth we part, To all eternity.

When sinks the heart, when strength decays, By Him our eyes be press'd, Then may we see His open face, In everlasting rest.

SHALL I NOT MY G.o.d BE PRAISING?

Shall I not my G.o.d be praising, And in Him not joyful be?

For in all His works amazing, See I not His care for me?

Is it not pure love that filleth, And His faithful heart o'erflows, When He ever cares for those, Who do only what He willeth?

All things run their course below, G.o.d's love doth for ever flow.

As its brood the eagle over, Ever more its wings doth spread.

So the Highest aye doth cover With His arms of pow'r my head.

In the womb e'en of my mother, When to me He being gave, E'en the life that now I have, Was He then my shield and cover.

All things run their course below, G.o.d's love doth for ever flow.

Not too great a gift He even Deem'd His only Son to be; Him to death hath freely given, Me from fear of h.e.l.l to free.

Oh! Thou spring of boundless blessing, How could e'er my feeble mind Of Thy depth the bottom find, Though my efforts were unceasing?

All things run their course below, G.o.d's love doth for ever flow.

And the Holy Ghost to guide me, n.o.ble Leader! He hath giv'n, That He through the world may lead me, Onward to the gate of heav'n.

That my heart He may be filling With th' unclouded light of faith, That can break the pow'r of death, And h.e.l.l's rage hath pow'r of stilling.

All things run their course below, G.o.d's love doth for ever flow.

For my soul's well-being ever Full provision doth He make, And in ev'ry need deliver, For the body care doth take.

When my pow'r, my best endeavour Cometh to extremity, Then my G.o.d appears to me, With His might comes to deliver.

All things run their course below, G.o.d's love doth for ever flow.

All the things in earth and heaven, E'en where'er I turn my eye, For my benefit are given, That they may my need supply.

All that's living, all that's growing, On the hills or in the woods, In the vales or 'neath the floods, G.o.d is for my good bestowing.

All things run their course below, G.o.d's love doth for ever flow.

When I sleep, His eye is waking, When I wake, He strength'neth me, Each new morn fresh courage taking, I new love and goodness see.

Had my G.o.d existed never, Had His face not guided me, From such ills so frequently, None could have deliver'd ever.

All things run their course below, G.o.d's love doth for ever flow.

'Gainst me many is the weapon, Forg'd by Satan's enmity, But no real hurt can happen, None hath yet befallen me.

G.o.d's own angel whom He sendeth, Wardeth off each deadly blow Aim'd by the untiring foe, Who our ruin thus intendeth.

All things run their course below, G.o.d's love doth for ever flow.

As a father ne'er withdraweth From his child his love away, Though he often evil doeth, And from wisdom's paths doth stray.

So G.o.d's heart towards me moveth, All my sins forgiveth He, Not in vengeance smiteth me, As a Father He reproveth.

All things run their course below, G.o.d's love doth for ever flow.

Ev'ry blow His hand inflicteth, Though the heart with pain it rend, When my heart aright reflecteth, Is a token that my Friend Thinks on me, and tow'rds me yearneth, Me from this ill world would free, That has so entangled me, By the cross to Him me turneth.

All things run their course below, G.o.d's love doth for ever flow.

This I know full well, and never Let it from my mind depart, Christ's cross hath its limit ever, And at length must cease to smart.

When the winter snows are over Lovely summer will appear, Who can hope, from ev'ry fear, And from pain, shall they recover.

All things run their course below, G.o.d's love doth for ever flow.

In G.o.d's love there is no ending, Ne'er a limit find I there, So my hands to Thee extending, As Thy child, I raise my pray'r.

Father! deign Thy grace to give me, That I may with all my might Thee embrace both day and night, All my life may never leave thee, And when life is o'er with me, Love and praise eternally.

PROTECTION OF G.o.d IN HITHERTO DANGEROUS TIMES OF WAR.

How heavy is the burden made That Thou upon our backs hast laid, O G.o.d! the Lord of Hosts, O G.o.d, whose anger rises high 'Gainst workers of iniquity.

The burden is the cruel tide Of war, that earth with blood has dyed, And fill'd with bitter tears.

It is a fire that rages high 'Neath suns of almost every sky.

The burden's great and hard to bear, But Thy strong arm and Father's care Are not to us unknown.

Thou punishest, but 'mid the woe Thou love and friendliness dost show.