4 But my heart fails, my tongue complains,
For want of their immortal strains;
And in such humble notes as these
Must fall below thy victories.

5 Well, the kind minute must appear
When we shall leave these bodies here,
These clogs of clay, and mount on high,
To join the songs above the sky.

Hymn 2:6. 
A morning song.

1 Once more, my soul, the rising day
Salutes thy waking eyes. 
Once more, my voice, thy tribute pay
To him that rolls the skies.

2 Night unto night his name repeats,
The day renews the sound,
Wide as the heaven on which he sits
To turn the seasons round.

3 ’Tis he supports my mortal frame,
My tongue shall speak his praise;
My sins would rouse his wrath to flame,
And yet his wrath delays.

4 On a poor worm thy power might tread,
And I could ne’er withstand;
Thy justice might have crush’d me dead,
But mercy held thine hand.

5 A thousand wretched souls are fled
Since the last setting sun,
And yet thou length’nest out my thread,
And yet my moments run.

6 Dear God, let all my hours be thine
Whilst I enjoy the light,
Then shall my sun in smiles decline,
And bring a pleasing night.

Hymn 2:7. 
An evening song.

1 [Dread Sovereign, let my evening song
Like holy incense rise;
Assist the offerings of my tongue
To reach the lofty skies.

2 Thro’ all the dangers of the day,
Thy hand was still my guard,
And still to drive my wants away
Thy mercy stood prepar’d.]

3 Perpetual blessings from above
Encompass me around,
But O how few returns of love
Hath my Creator found!

4 What have I done for him that dy’d
To save my wretched soul? 
How are my follies multiply’d,
Fast as my minutes roll;

5 Lord, with this guilty heart of mine
To thy dear cross I flee,
And to thy grace my soul resign
To be renew’d by thee.

6 Sprinkled afresh with pardoning blood
I lay me down to rest,
As in th’ embraces of my God,
Or on my Saviour’s breast.

Hymn 2:8. 
A hymn for morning or evening.

1 Hosanna, with a cheerful sound,
To God’s upholding hand;
Ten thousand snares attend us round,
And yet secure we stand.

2 That was a most amazing power
That rais’d us with a word,
And every day and every hour
We lean upon the Lord.

3 The evening rests our weary head,
And angels guard the room;
We wake and we admire the bed
That was not made our tomb.

4 The rising morning can’t assure
That we shall end the day,
For death stands ready at the door
To seize our lives away.

5 Our breath is forfeited by sin
To God’s revenging law;
We own thy grace, immortal King,
In every gasp we draw.

6 God is our sun, whose daily light
Our joy and safety brings: 
Our feeble flesh lies safe at night
Beneath his shady wings.