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      Morning Hymn.

       Table of Contents

      O speak good of the Lord, all ye Works of His, in all Places of His Dominion: praise thou the Lord, O my Soul.

      Ps. ciii. 22.

      How lovely now the morning-star

      In twilight sky bright gleams afar,

      While Night her curtain raiseth;

      Each creature hails, with ravished sight,

      The glories of returning light,

      And God its Maker praiseth:

      Both far, And near,

      All things living Thanks are giving,

      There high soaring,

      Here through earth’s wide field adoring.

      Then haste, my Soul, thy notes to raise,

      Nor spare in thy Redeemer’s Praise

      To pour thy due Oblation;

      For glory, Lord, to Thee belongs,

      Thy Praise resounds in grateful songs,

      With pious emulation:

      Joy rings Glad strings:

      Voices sounding, Hearts rebounding,

      Thus all Nature

      Hymns Thy fame, O great Creator.

      Unconscious, I securely slept,

      Nor saw the cruel foes which kept

      Close watch about my slumber;

      Though evil spirits, through the night,

      With hellish craft and watchful spite,

      Came round me without number;

      Whose hands In bands,

      Mischief brewing For my ruin,

      Had enslaved me,

      Hadst not Thou stood by and saved me.

      For, Jesus, Thou with saving Power,

      Wast near me in that threatening hour,

      And warded off their fury;

      And I reposed in quiet sleep,

      Whilst Thou unwearied watch didst keep;

      To Thee all Praise and Glory!

      My heart’s Best part,

      Upward springing, Loudly singing,

      Shall adore Thee,

      While on earth I walk before Thee.

      This day my Fortress, Lord, abide,

      Now ope Thy Gates of Mercy wide,

      Within their shelter place me;

      My Castle and my Rock Thou art,

      O let no foeman’s treacherous dart

      From Thee, my Stronghold, chase me.

      Help, Lord, Afford!

      Near me tarry, Blows to parry,

      While around me

      Sword and arrow sore confound me.

      Pour down Thy grace in cheering streams,

      And warm my heart with Mercy’s beams,

      From heaven, Thy Throne of Beauty;

      Let Thy Good Spirit guide my will,

      That I, whate’er my station, still

      May seek my Joy in Duty:

      Send Light, And Might,

      That each measure, Scheme and pleasure,

      Heavenward tending,

      Still in Thee may find its ending.

      Keep grief, if this may be, away—

      If not, Thy Will be done, I say,

      My choice to Thine resigning;

      O come, and like the morning dew,

      Refresh my heart, and make it new,

      That I may, unrepining,

      Bear cross, And loss,

      Till that morrow Chase all sorrow,

      When upraisèd

      Where Thy Name is ever praisèd.

      Meanwhile, my heart, both sing and leap,

      Mid cross and loss good courage keep,

      To Heaven’s bright Gate you hasten;

      Then lay desponding care aside,

      God ever thus His Own hath tried,

      And those He loves doth chasten;

      Hope still, Midst ill,

      Calm though grieving, Firm believing

      Tribulation

      Is the road to sure Salvation.

      Abendlied.

       Table of Contents

      Beschirme mich unter dem Schatten deiner Flügel.

      Nun ruhen alle Wälder,

      Vieh, Menschen, Städt und Felder,

      Es schläft die ganze Welt:

      Ihr aber, meine Sinnen,

      Auf, auf, ihr sollt beginnen,

      Was eurem Schöpfer wohlgefällt.

      Wo bist du, Sonne, blieben?

      Die Nacht hat dich vertrieben,

      Die Nacht, des Tages Feind:

      Fahr hin, ein andre Sonne,

      Mein Jesus, meine Wonne,

      Gar hell in meinem Herzen scheint.

      Der Tag ist nun vergangen,

      Die goldnen Sternlein prangen

      Am blauen Himmelssaal:

      Also werd ich auch stehen,

      Wenn mich wird heissen gehen

      Mein Gott aus diesem Jammerthal.

      Der Leib eilt nun zur Ruhe,

      Legt ab das Kleid und Schuhe,

      Das Bild der Sterblichkeit:

      Die zieh ich aus, dagegen

      Wird Christus mir anlegen

      Den Rock der Ehr und Herrlichkeit.

      Das Haupt, die Füss und Hände

      Sind froh, dass nun zum Ende

      Die Arbeit kommen sei:

      Herz, freu dich, du sollst werden

      Vom Elend dieser Erden

      Und von der Sünden Arbeit frei.

      Nun geht, ihr matten Glieder,

      Geht hin, und legt euch nieder,

      Der Betten ihr begehrt:

      Es kommen Stund und Zeiten,

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