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942 The Homeland. THERE is a blessed home

Beyond this land of woe, Where trials never come,

Nor tears of sorrow flow; Where faith is lost in sight,

And patient hope is crowned, And everlasting light

Its glory throws around. 2 There is a land of peace;

Good angels know it well; Glad songs that never cease

Within its portals swell; Around its glorious throne

Ten thousand saints adore Christ, with the Father one,

And Spirit, evermore. 3 Look up, ye saints of God!

Nor fear to tread below The path your Saviour trod

Of daily toil and woe;

Wait but a little while

In uncomplaining love ; His own most gracious smile Shall welcome you above.

Henry W. Baker. 943 a father's Pand. BE tranquil, O my soul!

Be quiet every fear! Thy Father hath control,

And he is ever near. Ne'er of thy lot complain,

Whatever may befall ; Sickness, or care, or pain,

'Tis well appointed all. 2 A Father's chastening hand

Is leading thee along; Nor distant is the land

Where swells the immortal song. Oh, then, my soul, be still!

Await heaven's high decree; Seek but thy Father's will,

It shall be well with thee.

Thomas Hastings.

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Wait, my soul, upon the Lord, To his gracious promise flee, Laying hold up-on his word, “ As thy days thy strength shall be."


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3 Days of trial, days of grief,

In succession thou mayst see; This is still thy sweet relief,

“As thy days thy strength shall be." 4 Rock of Ages, I'm secure,

With thy promise full and free ; Faithful, positive, and sure“As thy days thy strength shall be."

W.F. Lloyd.

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944 Deut. 33:25.
Wait, my soul, upon the Lord,

To his gracious promise flee,
Laying hold upon his word,

"As thy days thy strength shall be." 2 If the sorrows of thy case

Seem peculiar still to thee,
God has promised needful grace,

“As thy days thy strength shall be.”

AMSTERDAM. 78, 6s. D.

Rise,my soul, and stretch thy wings, Thy better por- tion trace;
Rise from tran-si - to - ry things Tow'rd heav'n, thy native place:) Sun and moon and stars de-cay;

Time shall soon this earth re-move ; Rise, my soul, and haste a-way To seats pre-pared a - bove.

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945 The Better Portion.
RISE, my soul, and stretch thy wings,

Thy better portion trace ;
Rise from transitory things

Toward heaven, thy native place: Sun and moon and stars decay;

Time shall soon this earth remove; Rise, my soul, and haste away

To seats prepared above. 2 Rivers to the ocean run,

Nor stay in all their course; Fire ascending seeks the sun;

Both speed them to their source:

So a soul that's born of God,

Pants to view his glorious face;
Upward tends to his abode,

To rest in his embrace.
3 Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn,

Press onward to the prize ;
Soon our Saviour will return

Triumphant in the skies:
Yet a season, - and you know

Happy entrance will be given,
All our sorrows left below,
And earth exchanged for heaven.

Robert Seagrare.


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3 Heaven and earth may pass away,
God's free grace shall not decay;
He hath promised to fulfill
All the pleasure of his will.
4 Jesus ! guardian of thy flock,
Be thyself our constant rock;
Make us by thy powerful hand,
Firm as Zion's mountain stand.

William Hammond.

In the dark and cloudy day,
When earth's riches flee away,
And the last hope will not stay,

Saviour, comfort me!
2 When the secret idol's gone
That my poor heart yearned upon,-
Desolate, bereft, alone,

Saviour, comfort me!
3 Thou, who wast so sorely tried,
In the darkness crucified,
Bid me in thy love confide;

Saviour, comfort me!
4 Comfort me; I am cast down:
'Tis my heavenly Father's frown;
I deserve it all, I own :

Saviour, comfort me!
5 So it shall be good for me
Much afflicted now to be,
If thou wilt but tenderly,

Saviour, comfort me!

948 Love Scen in Trials.
'Tis my happiness below

Not to live without the cross,
But the Saviour's power to know,

Sanctifying every loss. 2 Trials must and will befall;

But with humble faith to see Love inscribed upon them all,

This is happiness to me. 3 God in Israel sows the seeds

Of affliction, pain and toil; These spring up and choke the weeds

Which would else o'erspread the soil. 4 Did I meet no trials here,

No chastisement by the way, Might I not with reason fear

I should prove a castaway? 5 Trials make the promise sweet;

Trials give new life to prayer; Trials bring me to his feet,

Lay me low, and keep me there.

George Rawson.

947 " for We Careth."
Cast thy burden on the Lord,
Only lean upon his word;
Thou wilt soon have cause to bless
His unchanging faithfulness.
2 He sustains thee by his hand,
He enables thee to stand ;
Those, whom Jesus once hath loved,
From his grace are never moved.

William Cowper.



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949 Consecration.

951 The Poor.-Luke 6:20. JESUS! our best belovéd Friend,

Thou God of hope, to thee we bow! On thy redeeming name we call;

Thou art our Refuge in distress; Jesus! in love to us descend,

The Husband of the widow thou, Pardon and sanctify us all.

The Father of the fatherless. 2 Our souls and bodies we resign,

2 The poor are thy peculiar care; To fear and follow thy commands; To them thy promises are sure: Oh! take our hearts, our hearts are thine, Thy gifts the poor in spirit share; Accept the service of our hands.

Oh! may we always thus be poor! 3 Firm, faithful, watching unto prayer, 3 May we thy law of love fulfill, Our Master's voice will we obey,

To bear each other's burdens here, Toil in the vineyard here, and bear Endure and do thy righteous will, The heat and burden of the day.

And walk in all thy faith and fear. 4 Yet, Lord, for us a resting-place,

952 Not Your Own. In heaven, at thy right hand, prepare ; And till we see thee face to face,

Oh, not my own these verdant hills, Be all our conversation there.

And fruits and flowers, and stream, and

James Montgomery. But his who all with glory fills, [wood; 950 faith and Works.

Who bought me with his precious blood. One cup of healing oil and wine,

2 Oh, not my own this wondrous frame, One offering laid on mercy's shrine, Its curious work, its living soul ; Is thrice more grateful, Lord, to thee, But his who for my ransom came; Than lifted eye or bended knee.

Slain for my sake, he claims the whole. 2 In true and inward faith we trace 3 Oh, not my own the grace that keeps The source of every outward grace ; My feet from fierce temptations free; Within the pious heart it plays,

Oh, not my own the thought that leaps, A living fount of joy and praise.

Adoring, blesséd Lord, to thee. 3 Kind deeds of peace and love betray 4 Oh, not my own; I'll soar and sing, Where'er the stream has found its way; When life, with all its toils, is o'er, But, where these spring not rich and fair, And thou thy trembling lamb shalt bring The stream has never wandered there. Safe home, to wander nevermore.

William H. Drummond.

Samuel F. Smith.

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Go, LABOR on, while it is day;

The world's dark night is hastening on;
Speed, speed thy work,- cast sloth away!

It is not thus that souls are won. 2 Men die in darkness at your side,

Without a hope to cheer the tomb: Take up the torch and wave it wide

The torch that lights time's thickest gloom. 3 Toil on,-faint not; keep watch and pray!

Be wise the erring soul to win; Go forth into the world's highway;

Compel the wanderer to come in. 4 Go, labor on : your hands are weak;

Your knees are faint, your soul cast down; Yet falter not; the prize you seek

Is near,-a kingdom and a crown!

954 Encouragement.
It may not be our lot to wield
The sickle in the ripened field;
Nor ours to hear, on summer eves,
The reaper's song among the sheaves.
2 Yet ours the grateful service whence
Comes, day by day, the recompense;
The hope, the trust, the purpose stayed,
The fountain, and the noonday shade.
3 And were this life the utmost span,
The only end and aim of man,
Better the toil of fields like these
Than waking dream and slothful ease.
4 But life, though falling like our grain,
Like that revives and springs again ;
And, early called, how blest are they
Who wait, in heaven, their harvest day!

Horatius Bonar.

J. G. Whittier.



Go, labor on; spend and be spent,-Thy joy to do the Father's will; It is the way the Master went; Should not the servant tread it still ?

955 Zeal.—John 12:43.
GO, LABOR on ; spend and be spent,-

Thy joy to do the Father's will;
It is the way the Master went;

Should not the servant tread it still ? 2 Go, labor on; 't is not for naught;

Thine earthly loss is heavenly gain; Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not ;

The Master praises,— what are men ?

3 Go, labor on; enough, while here,

If he shall praise thee, if he deign Thy willing heart to mark and cheer:

No toil for him shall be in vain.
4 Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice;

For toil comes rest, for exile home;
Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom's

The midnight peal: "Behold, I come !"

Horatius Bonar.

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