25. 11s. M. Edmeston.

The House of God.

1There's a refuge of peace from the tempests that beat,

From the dark clouds that threaten, the wild wind that blows;

A holy, a sweet and a lovely retreat,

A spring of refreshment, a place of repose.

2'Tis the house of my God, 'tis the dwelling of prayer,

The temple all hallowed by blessing and praise;

If sorrow and faithlessness conquer me, there

My heart to the throne of his grace I can raise.

3For a refuge like this, ah, what praises are due!

For a rest so serene, for a covert so fair:

Ah, why are the seasons of worship so few?

And why are so seldom the meetings of prayer?

The Fount of Blessing.

1Far from mortal cares retreating,

Sordid hopes, and vain desires,

Here our willing footsteps meeting,

Every heart to heaven aspires.

2From the fount of glory beaming,

Light celestial cheers our eyes,

Mercy from above proclaiming

Peace and pardon from the skies.

3Who may share this great salvation?

Every pure and humble mind,

Every kindred, tongue, and nation,

From the stains of guilt refined.

4Blessings all around bestowing,

God withholds his care from none,

Grace and mercy ever flowing

From the fountain of his throne.