WORSHIP.
O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness: fear before him, all the earth.—Psalm xcvi. 9.
In vain do they worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men.—Mark, vii. 7.
But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship him.—John, iv. 23.
First worship God; he that forgets to pray
Bids not himself good-morrow nor good-day:
Let thy first labour be to purge thy sin,
And serve Him first, whence all things did begin.
Thomas Randolph.
There is a joy which angels well might prize:
To see, and hear, and aid God’s worship, when
Unnumbered tongues—a host of Christian men,
Youths, matrons, maidens, join. Their sounds arise
“Like many waters;” now glad symphonies
Of thanks and glory to our God, and then,
Seal of the social prayer, the loud Amen.
Faith’s common pledge, contrition’s mingled cries.
Thus when the church of Christ was hale and young,
She call’d on God, one spirit and one voice;
Thus from corruption cleansed, with health new strung,
Her son she nurtured. Oh! be theirs by choice,
What duty bids, to worship, heart and tongue,
At once to pray, at once in God rejoice!
Bishop Mant.
The cheerfu’ supper done, wi’ serious face,
They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
The sire turns o’er, wi’ patriarchal grace,
The big ha’-bible, ance his father’s pride;
His bonnet rev’rently is laid aside,
His lyart haffets wearing thin and bare;
Those strains that ance did sweet in Zion glide,
He wales a portion with judicious care;
And “Let us worship God!” he says, with solemn air.
Burns.
Not always he
Hath holiest heart, whose worship is most loud,
And that is purest prayer, where one alone is bowed.
G. H. Colton.
Sweet is the solemn voice that calls
The christian to the house of prayer!
I love to stand within its walls,
For Thou, O Lord, art present there!
I love to tread the hallowed courts,
Where two or three for worship meet;
For thither Christ himself resorts,
And makes the little band complete.
Lyte.
The earth is one great temple, made
For worship everywhere;
And its flowers are the bells, in glen and glade,
That ring the heart to prayer.
A solemn preacher is the breeze;
At noon or twilight dim,
The ancient trees give homilies—
The river hath a hymn.
For the city bell takes seven days
To reach the townsman’s ear,
But he who kneels in nature’s ways,
Hath sabbath all the year.
T. K. Hervey.
Give to the sceptic gain and gaud;
The Christian envies not his lot,
Who, while his fellow-men applaud,
Is by his outraged God forgot.
More blest is he, who, ’mid the cares
Of this world’s loud and busy mart,
The melody of worship bears
For ever, in his inmost heart.
Miss Pardoe.
The God who reigns on high
The great archangels sing;
And “Holy, holy, holy,” cry,
“Almighty King!
Who was and is the same,
And evermore shall be;
Jehovah, Father, Great I am,
We worship Thee.”
T. Olivers.