And the voice of the turtle is heard,
Where all was dead silence before.
3 The winter of sin in our heart,
Whose pow'rs doth the ice hold in chain,
Lord, bid, in thy mercy, depart;—
Let spring-time of good come again!
4 O Lord, in thy grace and thy love,
Renew us, and teach us thy ways:
Then, grateful, we'll lift up above
Our songs never ending of praise!

416.

ALLEN.

78. Nuremburg. Blue Town.
Spring.

1 JOYFUL spring again is here!
Trees and fields in bloom appear!
Hark! the birds, with artless lays,
Warble their Creator's praise!

2 How the soul in winter, mourns,
Till the Lord, the Sun, returns?
Till the Spirit's gentle rain
Bids the heart revive again?

8 Let me, Lord, now hear thy voice;
Bid my des❜late soul rejoice;
O, beloved Savior, haste,

Tell me, all the storms are past!

4 Bring me up to Eden's bowers;
There unwith'ring blow the flowers!
There no chilling blasts annoy;
All is bloom, and love, and joy!

417.

NEWTON.

7s. Turin. Redeeming Love.

Day of Thanksgiving.

mf 1 LORD! our songs we lift to Thee
For thy bounties, rich and free,
For the verdure of the field,
For the fruits, the earth doth yield,
For the products of thy power,
For thy mercy's ample store.

2 Thou didst send the copious rain,
Thou didst clothe in green the plain;

Thou didst make the grass to spring,
Thou the harvest-joys didst bring;
Dews and sunshine from thy hand
Spread abundance through the land.
3 Equal laws and Freedom's sway,-
Laws, which they, who make, obey;
Learning's pure, enliv'ning flame,
Health, which braces all the frame,
Peace, with hands unstain'd with blood:-
Thou giv'st all, O, Fount of good!

4 Richer blessings Thou hast given,—
TRUTH, Outbeaming bright from heaven,
SPIRIT'S influence from above,
Wonders of REDEEMING LOVE,

Fruits of RIGHTEOUSNESS and Joy:

f These shall endless songs employ!

ALLEN.

Wilmot. Blue Town.

Our Country's Blessings.

mf 1 SWELL the anthem, raise the song;
Praises to our God belong;
Saints and angels join to sing
Praise to heav'n's almighty King!

2 Blessings from his lib'ral hand
Pour around this happy land;
Let our hearts beneath his sway
Hail the bright, triumphant day.

Aff 3 Now to Thee our thanks ascend,
Thou hast been our heav'nly Friend:
Guarded by thy mighty power,
Peace and freedom bless our shore.

4 Here, beneath a virtuous sway,
May we cheerfully obey;
Never feel a tyrant's rod,
Ever own a gracious God.

mf 5 Hark! the voice of nature sings
Praises to the King of kings;

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Let us join the choral song,

And the heav'nly notes prolong! PRESB. COLL.

419.

C. M.

Newton. St. James.

Fast Day.

1 BEHOLD, O Lord, our guilty land,
Thy wrath, O turn away:

We've broke thy holy, just command,
And crimes our souls dismay.

2 Thy name and sabbaths, Lord, profaned,
Thy vengeance oft defied,

With crimson spots our hands are stained:-
Must we thy wrath abide?

9 How fiercely burns contentious ire,
With slanders, taunts, and sneers ?
In kindled flames of raging fire
Our wide-spread land appears.

4 And then oppression binds the yoke,
Nor lets th' oppress'd go free:-

Thou, Lord, canst not thy threats revoke,
Unless we turn to Thee!

Aff 5 0, save us, Lord! our guilt forgive;
Reveal thy mercy's power:-
O may we in thy presence live,
Redeem'd forevermore!

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420.

Aff

6 & 4.

ALLEN.

Dort. Italian Hymn.

Fast on Account of War.

1 IN justice, Lord, we own,

Thou reignest on thy throne,
And dost thy will;

And pestilential star,

And cruel, blood-stain'd war,
Borne on in thund'ring car,
Thy word fulfil.

2 'T is guilt, which brings forth wo;
From sin our sorrows flow:

We bow to Thee!

O, turn us from our sin,
And make us pure within,
That we may safety win,

From fears set free,

mf

3 0, stay the raging flood,
And spare thy people's blood,
And peace restore!

421.

Then, while shall flow our days,
Our grateful songs we'll raise;
And we will give Thee praise
Forevermore!

S. M.

ALLEN.

Boylston. Watchman.

The Close of the Year.

1 THE year is well-nigh fled,

Its moments gone in haste,

Its joys and sorrows with the dead ;-
And God requires the past!

2 How little have we done

With burning flame of love,

When glorious crown we might have won,-
Immortal joys above?

3 Have souls, uncheer'd with light,
Gone to the dreary tomb,

When we, by toil and pray'rful might,
Could once have brought them home?

4 Fled are the days of spring!—
The time, when man must sow,
If he the harvest fruits would bring,
And harvest-shouting know.

5 Will God require the past?
Our sins we, Lord, deplore;

422.

Thy laws to keep O make us haste,-
To keep them evermore!

S. M.

ALLEN.

Clapton. Mornington.

The Landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth.

1 THE heavy night hung dark

The hills and waters o'er,

When, lo, the exiles moor'd their bark

On wild, New England shore.

2 Amidst the storm they sang,-
Heard by the stars and sea;

The sounding aisles of dim woods rang
To anthem of the free!

3 Lo, men with hoary hair,
Amidst that pilgrim band!

Why had they come to wither there,
Away from childhood's land?

4 There's woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There manhood's brow serenely high,
There fiery heat of youth.

5 What sought they thus afar?

Bright jewels of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?-
They sought a Faith's pure shrine!

6 Aye, call it holy ground,—

The soil, where first they trod!

They've left unstain'd what there they found,—
Freedom to worship God!

7 Let their example bright,

Lord, guide their children's feet:
At last, in yonder world of light,
Let Sons and Fathers meet!

MRS, HEMANS.

4.23.

8 & 7, Marriage.

Sicily. Greenville.

1 ONCE the Savior condescended

At a marriage feast to be,

Where his pow'r and grace were blended:—
Lord! may we thy presence see!

2 Bless thy servants, now united
In the bonds of sacred love;
Let their joys be never blighted,
Let them discord's woes ne'er prove.

3 Bless them in their store and basket,
Guide them in their ways aright ;
Let them keep, as in a casket,
Gem of love all pure and bright,

4 And, though death their bond may sever,
And the living mourn in tears,
Let them meet in joy, where never
Friends shall part in endless years!

ALLEN.