O come; for Thou dost know the way!
Or, if to me thou wilt not move,
Remove me, where I need not say,
"Drop from above!"

Hallowed be thy name —

By the thoughts of our hearts,
By the words of our lips,
By the works of our hands;

Thy kingdom come

Of Providence to defend us,

Of grace to refine us,

Of glory to crown us;

Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven-
Toward us without refiftance,
By us without compulfion,
Universally without exception,
Eternally without declenfion ;

And forgive us our trespaffes

Against the commands of thy law,
Against the grace of thy gospel;

As we forgive them that trespass against us
By defaming our characters,

By embezzling our property,
By abufing our persons;

And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil

Of overwhelming afflictions,

Of worldly enticements,

Of Satan's devices,

Of errors' seductions,

Of finful affections;

For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory

forever

Thy kingdom governs all,

Amen.

Thy power subdues all,
Thy glory is above all.

As it is in thy purposes,
So it is in thy promises,
So be it in our prayers,

So it fhall be to thy praise.

Pierre Bernard.

THE SHEPHERD'S SABBATH SONG.

Ins is the Sabbath day

HIS is the Sabbath day!

TH

In the wide field I am alone.

Hark! now one morning-bell's sweet tone:

Now it has died away.

Kneeling I worship Thee;
Sweet dread doth o'er my spirit fteal
From whispering sounds of those who kneel
Unseen to pray with me.

Around and far away

So clear and solemn is the fky,

It seems all opening to my eye;
This is the Sabbath day!

From the German of Uhland, by Mrs. Follen.

"JAM LUCIS ORTO SIDERE."

I.

TOW that the sun is gleaming bright

Implore we, bending low,

That Thou, the Uncreated Light

Wouldft guide us as we go.

II.

Nor finful word, nor deed of wrong,

Nor thoughts that idly rove,

But fimple truth be on our tongue

And in our hearts be love.

III.

And as the hours in order flow

O Chrift! securely fence

Our gates, beleaguered by the foe,

The gate of every sense.

IV.

And grant, that to thine honor, Lord!

Our daily toil may tend,

That we begin it at thy word,

And in thy favor end.

MORNING PRAYER.

SILENCE deep and strange!

The earth doth yet in quiet flumber lie, No ftir of life, save on yon woodland range, The tall trees bow as if their Lord paffed by.

Like to one new-create,

I have no memory of grief and care;
Of all the things which vexed my soul of late
I am afhamed in this calm morning air.

This world, with all its band

Of clamorous joys and griefs, shall be to me
A bridge whereon, iny pilgrim-ftaff in hand,
I cross the stream of Time, O Lord, to thee.
From the German of J. F. Eichendorf.