Lord
Who rules his people by his word,
And there as strong as his decrees
He sets his kindest promises.

3 [Firm are the words his prophets give,
Sweet words on which his children live;
Each of them is the voice of God,
Who spoke and spread the skies abroad.

4 Each of them powerful as that sound
That bid the new-made heavens go round;
And stronger than the solid poles,
On which the wheel of nature rolls.]

5 Whence then should doubts and fears arise,
Why trickling sorrows drown our eyes?
Slowly, alas, our mind receives
The comforts that our Maker gives.

6 O for a strong, a lasting faith
To credit what th' almighty saith!
T' embrace the message of his Son,
And call the joys of heaven our own.

7 Then should the earth's old pillars shake,
And all the wheels of nature break,
Our steady souls should fear no more
Than solid rocks when billows roar.

8 Our everlasting hopes arise
Above the ruinable skies,
Where the eternal Builder reigns,
And his own courts his power sustains.

Hymn 2:61.
A thought of death and glory.

1 My soul, come meditate the day,
And think how near it stands,
When thou must quit this house of clay,
And fly to unknown lands.

2 [And you, mine eyes, look down and view
The hollow gaping tomb,
This gloomy prison waits for you
Whene'er the summons come.]

3 O could we die with those that die,
And place us in their stead,
Then would our spirits learn to fly,
And converse with the dead:

4 Then should we see the saints above
In their own glorious forms,
And wonder why our souls should love
To dwell with mortal worms.

5 [How we should scorn these clothes of flesh,
These fetters and this load!
And long for evening to undress,
That we may rest with God.]

6 We should almost forsake our clay
Before the summons come,
And pray, and wish our souls away
To their eternal home.

Hymn 2:62.
God the thunderer; or,
The last judgment and hell.*

1 Sing to the Lord, ye heavenly hosts,
And thou, O earth, adore,
Let death and hell thro' all their coasts,
Stand trembling at his power.

2 His sounding chariot shakes the sky,
He makes the clouds his throne,
There all his stores of lightning lie,
Till vengeance dart them down.

3 His nostrils breathe out fiery streams,
And from his awful tongue
A sovereign voice divides the flames,
And thunder roars along.

4 Think, O my soul, the dreadful day
When this incensed God
Shall rend the sky, and burn the sea,
And fling his w