# | Text | Tune | | | | | | |
CI | How are thy servants blest, O Lord [God] | | | | | | | |
CII | In vain the dusky night retires | | | | | | | |
CIII | Death, with his dread commission sealed | | | | | | | |
CIV | Happy the heart where graces reign | | | | | | | |
CV | Thou sacred Power, in heaven above | | | | | | | |
CVI | When Abraham, full of sacred awe | | | | | | | |
CVII | Shepherds, rejoice, lift up your eyes | | | | | | | |
CVIII | Ye hearts with youthful vigor warm | | | | | | | |
CIX | The God of love will sure indulge | | | | | | | |
CX | When blooming youth is [are] snatched [called] away | | | | | | | |
CXI | Great Ruler of the earth and skies | | | | | | | |
CXII | Weary of these low scenes of night | | | | | | | |
CXIII | Arise, and hail the happy sacred day | | | | | | | |
CXIV | Now let our pains be all forgot | | | | | | | |
CXV | See Isr'l's gentle Shepherd stand [stands] | | | | | | | |
CXVI | Jesus, in thee our eyes behold | | | | | | | |
CXVII | Let all the heathen writers join | | | | | | | |
CXVIII | Ye humble souls that [who] seek the Lord | | | | | | | |
CXIX | Not from the dust affliction grows | | | | | | | |
CXX | Lo the young tribes of Adam rise | | | | | | | |
CXXI | The law commands, and makes us know | | | | | | | |
CXXII | My God, permit me [us] not to be a stranger | | | | | | | |
CXXIII | 'Twas on that [a] dark, that [and] doleful [awful] [dreary] night [day] | | | | | | | |
CXXIV | Let party names no more | | | | | | | |
CXXV | Where shall the tribes of Adam find | | | | | | | |
CXXVI | How most exact is nature's frame | | | | | | | |
CXXVII | When first the God of boundless grace | | | | | | | |
CXXVIII | With restless agitations tossed [tost] | | | | | | | |
CXXIX | How helpless guilty [fallen] nature lies | | | | | | | |
CXXX | Ye mourning sinners, here disclose | | | | | | | |
CXXXI | Before Jehovah's awful throne | | | | | | | |
CXXXII | Man has a soul of vast desires | | | | | | | |
CXXXIII | How long shall death, the tyrant, reign | | | | | | | |
CXXXIV | Blest Jesus, how divinely bright | | | | | | | |
CXXXV | Jesus, the friend of man | | | | | | | |
CXXXVI | What strange perplexities arise | | | | | | | |
CXXXVII | Let coward guilt, with pallid fear | | | | | | | |
CXXXVIII | 'Tis not the law often commands | | | | | | | |
CXXXIX | Riches in copious streams | | | | | | | |
CXL | Malignant envy, come not near | | | | | | | |
CXLI | Father of all, thy care we bless | | | | | | | |
CXLII | Hail honored wedlock, sacred rite | | | | | | | |
CXLIII | The traitor comes with ruffian crew | | | | | | | |
CXLIV | Bound in a malefactor's chains | | | | | | | |
CXLV | Yes, there's a better world on high | | | | | | | |
CXLVI | Eternal God, our years amount | | | | | | | |
CXLVII | Thou great and sacred Lord of all | | | | | | | |
CXLVIII | My heart, and all my ways, O God | | | | | | | |
CXLIX | Swift as the feathered arrow flies | | | | | | | |
CL | Though peevish virtue may complain | | | | | | | |
CLI | Night's dismal gloom once more is fled | | | | | | | |
CLII | Wretched deceit, to think of heaven | | | | | | | |
CLIII | The gracious Saviour bow'd his head | | | | | | | |
CLIV | My gracious God, accept my prayer | | | | | | | |
CLV | O happiness, where art thou hid | | | | | | | |
CLVI | If Providence, to try my [our] heart [hearts] | | | | | | | |
CLVII | Behold a stranger at the door! | | | | | | | |
CLVIII | To thee, let my [our] first offering [offerings] rise | | | | | | | |
CLIX | Swift as the winged arrow flies | | | | | | | |
CLX | Wherewith shall I [we] approach the [thee] Lord | | | | | | | |
CLXI | Thy laughing joys, young man, pursue | | | | | | | |
CLXII | How eagerly do men pursue | | | | | | | |
CLXIII | As various as the moon is man's estate below | | | | | | | |
CLXIV | Who of himself can find | | | | | | | |
CLXV | Short is the date prescribed to man | | | | | | | |
CLXVI | Great God, what rich provision's made | | | | | | | |