7 There with the happy throng
We'll rejoice-we'll rejoice:
Shouting "glory to our King"
Till the heavenly dome shall ring,
And through all eternity
We'll rejoice-we'll rejoice.

Paradise. HYMN 155. C. M.

A

WAKE my faith, and bring to view
The nobler joys above;

The heavenly treasures I pursue,

The country of my love.

2 Why should I pine with grief or care,
Or yield to quaking fear;
My Father's house is bright and fair,
And He himself is near.

3 Onward He bids me urge with speed,
To Canaan's peaceful bounds;
His hand supplies my every need,
His sheltering arm surrounds.

4 Then rise to view celestial towers-
Mount, mount, my soul, and fly;
With glorious comrades, heavenly powers
Arise, and dwell on high.

5 Anticipate the happier day,

When, toil and sorrow gone,
Thou shalt traverse, in bright array,
The regions round the throne.

6 Thither my friends have gone before;
They rest from labor there;

They sorrow not-they weep no more;
I long their bliss to share.

7 O, blessed Saviour! 'tis to thee,
This wish, this hope I owe;
On earth my great Protector be,
In heaven thy glory show.

HYMN 156.

Maltese Boatman's song.*

W. H.

The Christian's welcome Home.

SEE, Stites weting sta

EE, Christian, see how time steals on;

Like the gleams of closing day,
Fade these fleeting hours away:
Then up let us toil till our toilings are o'er,
Till we shall be borne to eternity's shore;
Our final summons having come,

How sweet the Christian's welcome home. Home, home, home, the Christian's welcome home, Welcome home, welcome home.

2 See how the shades of death come nigh;
Blissful shades when Christians' die:
They mark the path our Saviour trod;
Dying saints to waft to God;

Then up fellow Christian let mourning be o'er:
Rejoice in the Saviour, rejoice evermore:
Our final summons having come,

How sweet the Christian's welcome home, Home, home, home, the Christian's welcome home, Welcome home, welcome home.

* Social Lyrist.

My Father-land. HYMN 157.

I

CHORUS.

I'm bound for home, for my blissful home,
The house and the City above;

And all who forsake their sins may come,
And dwell in that City of love.

SEEK a place which is out of sight;—
A City high up in the skies;

There, there is my home all pure and bright,
And homeward my spirit still hies.

Chorus.
2 I seek a place where they heave no sigh;-
Where sorrow can never be known:
But where I shall drink from founts of joy,
That gush ever bright from the throne.

66

Chorus.

3 I seek a place where they never die;-
Where beauty and youth never fade;
Where never is heard the mournful cry,
My friend, my beloved, is dead.”
Chorus.
4 I seek a place where they sin no more;-
Where Satan my foe cannot lure:
And Oh! when I reach that blessed shore,
My soul is forever secure.

Chorus.

5 I seek a place where the patriarchs shine;Apostles and martyrs and seers;

Encircled in robes of light divine,
Triumphant o'er sin death and fears.

Chorus.

6 I seek a place where the Saviour reigns;That Jesus once nailed to the tree;

He purchased that place with blood and pains, And went to prepare it for me.

Long, Long ago. HYMN 158.

SH

"Shed not a tear."

Chorus.

W. H.

HED not a tear o'er your friends early bier;When I am gone-when I am goneSmile when the slow tolling bell you shall hearWhen I am gone-I am gone

Weep not for me when you stand round my grave;
Think who has died his beloved to save;
Think of the crown all the ransomed shall have;
When I am gone-I am gone.

2. Plant ye a tree which may wave over me;
When I am gone--when I am gone-
Sing ye a song when my grave ye shall see:
When I am gone-I am gone—

Come at the close of a bright summer's day;
Come when the sun sheds his last lingering ray;
Come and rejoice that I thus passed away;
When I am gonc-I am gone.

.

3 Plant ye a rose that may bloom o'er my bed; When I am gone-when I am goneBreathe not a sigh for the blest early dead;When I am gone-I am gone

Praise ye the Lord that I'm freed from all care; Serve ye the Lord that my bliss ye may share; Look up on high and believe I am there; When I am gone-I am gone.

THE WORD.

HYMN 159. 2 8s and 4 7s.

Bible! a treasure

Does the word of God afford!

All I want for life or pleasure,

Food and med'cine, shield and sword:
Let the world account me poor,
Having this I want no more.

2 Food to which the world 's a stranger,
Here my hungry soul enjoys;
Of excess there is no danger,
Though it fills it never cloys:
On a dying Christ I feed,
He is meat and drink indeed!

3 When my faith is faint and sickly,
Or when Satan wounds my mind,
Cordials to revive me quickly,
Healing med'cine here I find:
To the promises I flce,

Each affords a remedy.

4 In the hour of dark temptation,
Satan cannot make me yield;
For the word of consolation

Is to me a mighty shield;
While the Scripture truths are sure,
From his malice I'm secure.