No ebb his sea of glory knows; 6 Then fly, my song, an endless round, VI. C. M. WATTS'S HYMNS. RISE, rise, my soul, and leave the ground z And rouse up ev'ry tuneful sound 3 Long ere the lofty skies were spread, Or Adam form'd, or angels made, 3 His boundless years can ne'er decrease And ever is his time. 4 While like a tide our minutes flow, 5 The sea and sky must perish too, 6 Well, let the sea shrink all away, VII. L. M. WATT'S HYMNs. God invisible. LORD, we are blind, we mortals blind; Yet, glorious Lord, thy gracious eyes CREATION. VIII. C. M. WATTS'S LYRIC POEMS: ETERNAL Wisdom, thee we praise; Thee the creation sings: With thy lov'd name, rocks, hills, and seas And heaven's high palace rings. 2 Thy hand, how wide it spread the sky! Ting'd with a blue of heavenly dye, Through skies and seas, and solid ground, 4 Infinite strength, and equal skill 5 But still the wonders of thy grace PROVIDENCE, IX, C. M. COWPER. The mysteries of Providence; or, light shining out of darkness. 1 GOD moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm. 2 Deep in unfathomable mines He treasures up his bright designs, 3 Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take, 4 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 5 His purposes will ripen fast, The bud may have a bitter taste Blind unbelief is sure to err Mysteries to be explained hereafter. John xiii. 7 REAT God of providence! thy ways Are hid from mortal sight; G Wrapt in impenetrable shades, Or cloth'd with dazzling light. The nearer we attempt t' approach 3 But in the world of bliss above, And not a doubt remain. 4 The Son of Righteousness shall there 1 HOW XI. C. M. ADDISON The Traveller's Psalm. OW are thy servants bless'd, O Lord, Eternal Wisdom is their guide, Their help Omnipotence. 2 In foreign realms and lands remote, Supported by thy care, Through burning climes they pass unhurt, And breathe in tainted air. When by the dreadful tempest borne, They know thou art not slow to hear, 4 The storm is laid, the winds retire, The sea, that roars at thy command, In 'midst of dangers, fears, and death, We'll praise thee for thy mercies past, Our life, while thou preserv'st that life, And death, when death shall be our lot, Knowledge at present imperfect. 1 Cor. xiii, 9 Nor comprehend the mystery 2 Here the dark veils of flesh and sense, My wand'ring thoughts confound, 3 When I behold thy awful hand 4 As through a glass I dimly see |