Chapter 148
5 Devoutly yield thyself to G.o.d, And on his grace depend; With zeal pursue the heavenly road, Nor doubt a happy end.
896. 7s. M. Anonymous.
The Same.
1 Time by moments steals away, First the hour and then the day; Small the daily loss appears, Yet it soon amounts to years.
2 Thus another year is flown; Now it is no more our own, If it brought or promised good, Than the years before the flood.
3 But may none of us forget It has left us much in debt; Who can tell the vast amount Placed to every one's account!
4 Favors, from the Lord received, Sins, that have his spirit grieved, Marked by an unerring hand, In his book recorded stand.
5 If we see another year, May thy blessing meet us here: Sun of righteousness, arise, Warm our hearts and bless our eyes.
897. C. M. Watts.
The Same.
1 Time! what an empty vapor 'tis!
And days, how swift they are!
Swift as an Indian arrow flies, Or like a shooting star.
2 The present moments just appear, Then slide away in haste; That we can never say, they're here; But only say, they're past.
3 Our life is ever on the wing, And death is ever nigh; The moment when our lives begin We all begin to die.
4 Yet, mighty G.o.d! our fleeting days Thy lasting favors share; Yet, with the bounties of thy grace, Thou load'st the rolling year.
5 'Tis sovereign mercy finds us
898. L. M. Watts.
G.o.d eternal, and Man mortal. Ps. 90.
1 Through every age, eternal G.o.d, Thou art our rest, our safe abode!
High was thy throne ere heaven was made, Or earth thy humble footstool laid.
2 Long hadst thou reigned ere time began, Or dust was fas.h.i.+oned into man; And long thy kingdom shall endure, When earth and time shall be no more.
3 A thousand of our years amount Scarce to a day in thine account; Like yesterday's departed light, Or the last watch of ending night.
4 Death, like an overflowing stream, Sweeps us away; our life's a dream, An empty tale, a morning flower Cut down and withered in an hour.
899. L. M. Doddridge.
The Closing Year.
1 G.o.d of our life! thy constant care With blessings crowns each opening year: These lives so frail thy love prolongs; Be this the burden of our songs.
2 How many precious souls are fled To the vast regions of the dead, Since, from this day, the changing sun Through his last yearly course has run!
3 We yet survive, but who can say, Or through the year, or month, or day, We shall retain this vital breath, Secure from all the shafts of death?
4 We hold our lives from thee alone, On earth, or in the worlds unknown; To thee our spirits we resign, Make them and own them all as thine.
5 Great Source of wisdom, teach my heart To know the price of every hour, That time may bear me on to joys Beyond its measure and its power.
900. C. M.
The Same.
1 Mark how the swift-winged minutes fly, And hours still hasten on!
How swift the circling months run round!
How soon the year is gone!
2 How is our debt of love increased To that sustaining Power, Who hath upheld our feeble frame, And blest each rolling hour.
3 For all thy favors, O our G.o.d, Thy goodness we adore; Thou hast our cup with blessings filled, And made that cup run o'er.
4 What shall befall in future life, We would not, Lord, inquire: To be prepared for all thy will.
Be this our chief desire.
901. 8s. & 7s. M. Estlin.