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The Book of Praise.
SEED TIME AND HARVEST.
Eternal source of every joy,
Well may Thy praise our lips employ,
While in Thy temple we appear,
Whose goodness crowns the circling year.
The flowery spring at Thy command Embalms the air and paints the land ; The-summer rays with vigour shine, To raise the corn, and cheer the vine.
Thy hand in autumn richly pours Through all our coasts redundant stores, And winters, soften'd by Thy care, No more a face of horror wear.
Seasons and months and weeks and days Demand successive songs of praise ; Still Be the cheerful homage paid With opening light and evening shade !
Oh ! may our more harmonious tongues In worlds unknown pursue the songs ; And in those brighter courts adore, Where days and years revolve no more !
Ph Hip Doddridge. 1755.
Fountain of mercy ! God of love !
How rich Thy bounties are ! The rolling seasons, as they move,
Proclaim Thy constant care.