The New Laudes Domini

MERIBAH.

C. P. M.

LOWELL MASON.

1162 The Tribunal.

But, can I bear the piercing thought,
When thou, my righteous Judge, shalt come What if my name should be left out,
To take thy ransomed people home,

When thou for them shalt call ?
Shall I among them stand ?
Shall such a worthless worm as I,

3 Among thy saints let me be found, Who sometimes am afraid to die,

Whene'er the archangel's trump shall sound, Be found at thy right hand ?

To see thy smiling face;

Then loudest of the throng I'll sing, 2 I love to meet thy people now,

While heaven's resounding mansions ring Before thy feet with them to bow,

With shouts of sovereign grace. Though vilest of them all ;

Lady Huntington.

BREST. 88, 78, 48.

LOWELL MASON.

Day of judg-ment! day of won-ders ! Hark!—the trumpet's aw - ful sound, Loud -er than a

thousand thunders, Shakes the vast crea-tion round: How the summons Will the sinner's heart confound!

1163 "Day of Tuonders."
Day of judgment! day of wonders!

Hark!--the trumpet's awful sound,
Louder than a thousand thunders,
Shakes the vast creation round:

How the summons
Will the sinner's heart confound !
2 See the Judge, our nature wearing,

Clothed in majesty divine !
You, who long for his appearing,

Then shall say,

“ This God is mine!"
Gracious Saviour!
Own me in that day for thine.
3 At his call, the dead awaken,

Rise to life from earth and sea;
All the powers of nature, shaken
By his looks, prepare to flee :

Careless sinner!
What will then become of thee?

John Newton,

MARTIN LUTHER.

JUDGMENT. P. M.

Great God! what do I The Judge of man I

see and hear! The end of things cre - at . ed !
see ap-pear,

On clouds of glo - ry seat-ed: The trumpet sounds; the

graves re-store The dead which they con-tained be · fore; Pre-pare, my soul, to

meet him.

1164 Prepare to fleet God.
GREAT God, what do I see and hear!

The end of things created!
The Judge of man I see appear,

On clouds of glory seated : The trumpet sounds; the graves restore The dead which they contained before;

Prepare, my soul, to meet him. 2 The dead in Christ shall first arise,

At the last trumpet's sounding Caught up to meet him in the skies,

With joy their Lord surrounding; No gloomy fears their souls dismay, His presence sheds eternal day

On those prepared to meet him.

1165 “ Into Thine Wand." WHEN my

last hour is close at hand, My last sad journey taken, Do thou, Lord Jesus ! by me stand;

Let me not be forsaken:
O Lord! my spirit I resign
Into thy loving hands divine;

'Tis safe within thy keeping.

2 Countless as sands upon the shore,

My sins may then appall me; Yet, though my conscience vex me sore,

Despair shall not enthrall me; For as I draw my latest breath, I'll think, Lord Christ! upon thy death;

And there find consolation.

3 I shall not in the grave remain,

Since thou death's bonds hast severed ; By hope with thee to rise again,

From fear of death delivered,
I'll come to thee, where'er thou art,-
Live with thee, from thee never part;

Therefore I die in rapture.

3 But sinners, filled with guilty fears,

Behold his wrath prevailing;
For they shall rise, and find their tears

And sighs are unavailing :
The day of grace is past and gone;
Trembling they stand before the throne,

All unprepared to meet him. 4 Great God! what do I see and hear!

The end of things created ! The Judge of man I see appear,

On clouds of glory seated : Beneath his cross I view the day When heaven and earth shall pass away, And thus prepare to meet him.

William B. Collyer.

4. And so to Jesus Christ I'll go,

My longing arms extending; So fall asleep, in slumber deep,

Slumber that knows no ending; Till Jesus Christ, God's only Son, Opens the gates of bliss, leads on To heaven, to life eternal.

Edgar A. Bowring, tr.

ALFORD. 78, 68, 88.

J. B. Dykes.

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1166 The Armies of God. TEN thousand times ten thousand,

In sparkling raiment bright, The armies of the ransomed saints

Throng up the steeps of light: 'T is finished, all is finished,

Their fight with death and sin: Fling open wide the golden gates,

And let the victors in. 2 What rush of hallelujahs

Fills all the earth and sky! What ringing of a thousand harps

Bespeaks the triumph nigh! Oh, day, for which creation

And all its tribes were made! Oh, joy, for all its former woes,

A thousand fold repaid !

3 Oh, then what raptured greetings

On Canaan's happy shore, What knitting severed friendships up,

Where partings are no more! Then eyes with joy shall sparkle,

That brimmed with tears of late, Orphans no longer fatherless,

Nor widows desolate. 4 Bring near thy great salvation,

Thou Lamb for sinners slain ; Fill up the roll of thine elect,

Then take thy power, and reign; Appear, Desire of nations

Thine exiles long for home Show in the heaven thy promised sign,

Thou Prince and Saviour, come!

Henry Alford.

WOODLAND. C. M. 51.

N. G. GOULD.

There is

an hour of peace-ful rest,

a joy for

多多

souls

dis-tressed, A balm for ev

ery wound-ed breast: 'Tis found

a - bove-in heav'n.

KATEGLIDDEN. 78, 6s, 8s.

Arr. fr. RUBINSTEIN, by H. L

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1167

The Homeland.
THE Homeland! oh, the Homeland !

The land of souls free-born!
No gloomy night is known there,

But aye the fadeless morn:
I'm sighing for that country,

My heart is aching here;
There is no pain in the Homeland

To which I'm drawing near. 2 My Lord is in the Homeland,

With angels bright and fair; No sinful thing nor evil,

Can ever enter there;

The music of the ransomed

Is ringing in my ears,
And when I think of the Homeland,

My eyes are wet with tears.
3 For loved ones in the Homeland

Are waiting me to come
Where neither death nor sorrow

Invades their holy home:
Oh, dear, dear native country!

Oh, rest and peace above!
Christ bring us all to the Homeland
Of his eternal love.

Hugh Reginald Haweis.

1168 C. M. 61. Tune-WOODLAND.

3 There faith lifts up her cheerful eye THERE is an hour of peaceful rest,

To brighter prospects given; To mourning wanderers given;

And views the tempest passing by, There is a joy for souls distressed;

The evening shadows quickly fly, A balm for every wounded breast :

And all serene-in heaven. 'Tis found above in heaven.

4 There fragrant flowers immortal bloom, 2 There is a home for weary souls,

And joys supreme are given; By sin and sorrow driven,

There rays divine disperse the gloom : When tossed on life's tempestuous shoals, Beyond the confines of the tomb Where storms arise, and ocean rolls,

Appears the dawn of heaven! And all is drear -- but heaven.

William B. Tappan.

LOWRY. L. M.

G. F. Root.

Isaac Watts

1169 "Many Mansions."

3 Oh, glorious hour! oh, blest abode ! Thy Father's house! thine own bright home! I shall be near, and like my God;

And thou hast there a place for me! And flesh and sin no more control Though yet an exile here I roam,

The sacred pleasures of the soul. That distant home by faith I see.

4 My flesh shall slumber in the ground, 2 I see its domes resplendent glow, Till the last trumpet's joyful sound;

Where beams of God's own glory fall; Then burst the chains, with sweet surprise, And trees of life immortal grow,

And in my Saviour's image rise ! Whose fruits o'erhang the sapphire wall. 3 I know that thou, who on the tree

1171 “Ege Math Not Seen." Didst deign our mortal guilt to bear, Now Let our souls, on wings sublime, Wilt bring thine own to dwell with thee, Rise from the vanities of time, And waitest to receive me there! Draw back the parting vail, and see

The glories of eternity. 4 Thy love will there array my soul

In thine own robe of spotless hue; 2 Born by a new celestial birth, And I shall gaze, while ages roll, Why should we grovel here on earth ?

On thee, with raptures ever new! Why grasp at transitory toys, 5 Oh, welcome day! when thou

So near to heaven's eternal joys? feet

my Shalt bring the shining threshold o'er ; 3 Should aught beguile us on the road, A Father's warm embrace to meet, When we are walking back to God? And dwell at home for evermore! For strangers into life we come,

And dying is but going home. 1170 Psalm 17.

4 Welcome, sweet hour of full discharge! What sinners value I resign;

That sets our longing souls at large, Lord ! 't is enough that thou art mine;

Unbinds our chains, breaks up our cell, I shall behold thy blissful face,

And gives us with our God to dwell. And stand complete in righteousness.

5 To dwell with God — to feel his love, 2 This life's a dream-an empty show;

Is the full heaven enjoyed above; But the bright world, to which I go,

And the sweet expectation now Hath joys substantial and sincere ;

Is the young dawn of heaven below. When shall I wake, and find me there?

Ray Palmer.

Thomas Gibbons.

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