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A. H. MANN.
BENEDICTION. 88, 78, 49.
Saints of God! the dawn is bright'ning, To-ken of our com-ing Lord;
O'er the earth the
field is whit'ning; Louder rings the Master's word,—"Pray for reapers in the harvest
1132 Home Missions.
Token of our coming Lord;
“Pray for reapers
Broad the shadow of our nation,
2 Now, O Lord! fulfill thy pleasure,
Breathe upon thy chosen band, And, with pentecostal measure, Send forth reapers o'er our land,
Faithful reapers, Gathering sheaves for thy right hand.
TULLY. 78, 68. D.
1133 Home Missions.
Ye men of God, arise!
The land before you lies; Day-gleams are o'er it brightening,
And promise clothes the soil; Wide fields, for harvest whitening,
Invite the reaper's toil.
Eager millions hither roam;
By thy Spirit,
Soon the reaping time will come, Heaven and earth together keeping God's eternal Harvest Home:
Saints and angels! Shout the world's great Harvest Home.
Mrs. Mary Maxwell.
2 The love of Christ unfolding,
Speed on from east to west,
In him are fully blest.
Haste, haste the glorious day,
Thy scepter shall obey.
Mrs. Maria F. Anderson.
WESLEY. 11s, 10s.
3 Lo! in the desert rich flowers are The Promise.
springing, HAIL to the brightness of Zion's glad
Streams ever copious are gliding along; morning!
Loud from the mountain-tops echoes are Joy to the lands that in darkness have lain !
ringing, Hushed be the accents of sorrow and
Wastes rise in verdure, and mingle in mourning;
song Zion in triumph begins her mild reign.
4 See, from all lands—from the isles of 2 Hail to the brightness of Zion's glad
the ocean, morning,
Praise to Jehovah ascending on high ; Long by the prophets of Israel foretold; Fallen are the engines of war and commoHail to the millions from bondage return
Shouts of salvation are rending the sky. Gentile and Jew the blest vision behold.
Thomas Hastings. ST. BARNABAS. 8s, 6s.
J. B. Dyres.
1135 Heralds of the King.
In every place to bring them in;
Where thou, thyself, wilt come. SEND thou, O Lord, to every place Swift messengers before thy face, 4 Gird each one with the Spirit's sword, The heralds of thy wondrous grace,
The sword of thine own deathless word; Where thou, thyself, wilt come.
And make them conquerors, conquering
Lord, 2 Send men whose eyes have seen the King!
Where thou, thyself, wilt come.
5 Raise up, O Lord the Holy Ghost, Send them where thou wilt come.
From this broad land a mighty host,
Their war-cry, “We will seek the lost, 3 To bring good news to souls in sin;
Where thou, O Christ, wilt come!” The bruised and broken hearts to win;
Mrs. Merrill E. Gates.
W. B. BRADBURY.
1137 Death of the Bighteous. HOW BLEST the righteous when he dies,
When sinks a weary soul to rest! How mildly beam the closing eyes!
How gently heaves the expiring breast! 2 So fades a summer-cloud away;
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er; So gently shuts the eye of day;
So dies a wave along the shore. 3 A holy quiet reigns around,
A calm which life nor death destroys; And naught disturbs that peace profound,
Which his unfettered soul enjoys. 4 Life's labor done, as sinks the clay,
Light from its load the spirit flies; While heaven and earth combine to say,
“How blest the righteous when he dies!”
Mrs. Anna L. Barbauld.
W. B. BRADBURY.
ZEPHYR. L. M.
1136 "His Belobed Sleep."
What timorous worms we mortals are ! Death is the gate of endless joy,
And yet we dread to enter there. 2 The pains, the groans, the dying strife
Fright our approaching souls away; We still shrink back again to life,
Fond of our prison and our clay. 3 Oh, if my Lord would come and meet,
My soulshould stretch her wings in haste, Fly fearless through death's iron gate,
Nor feel the terrors as she passed. 4 Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are, While on his breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there!
REST. L. M.
1138 “Asleep in Iesus." ASLEEP in Jesus! blesséd sleep! From which none ever wake to weep; A calm and undisturbed repose, Unbroken by the last of foes. 2 Asleep in Jesus! oh, how sweet To be for such a slumber meet ! With holy confidence to sing That death hath lost its venomed sting! 3 Asleep in Jesus! peaceful rest! Whose waking is supremely blest;
No fear -no woe, shall dim the hour
Mrs. Margaret Mackay.
CAROLYN. C. X. D.
Arr. by EMMELAR.
Be · hold the west-ern evening light! It melts in deepening gloom: So calm-ly Christians
1139 Life's Sunset.
It melts in deepening gloom:
Descending to the tomb. The winds breathe low, the withering leaf
Scarce whispers from the tree: So gently flows the parting breath,
When good men cease to be. 2 How beautiful on all the hills
The crimson light is shed !
To mourners round his bed.
The sunset beam is cast!
When loved ones breathe their last. 3 And now above the dews of night
The rising star appears:
Whose eyes are bathed in tears.
Its glory shall restore,
Shall wake to close no more.
1140 “Number Our Days."
Is equal warning given;
Above us is the heaven!
And lurks in every flower;
Its peril every hour! 2 Our eyes have seen the rosy light
Of youth's soft cheek decay ;
On manhood's middle day.
Halt feebly to the tomb;
And dreams of days to come ? 3 Then, mortal, turn! thy danger know;
Where'er thy foot can tread,
And warns thee of her dead !
To truths divinely given:
W. B. 0. Peabody.