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Lo, self-moving it drives on its pathway of

cloud, And the heavens with the burden of Godhead are bow'd.

2 The glory, the glory around him is pour'd! Mighty hosts of the angels that wait on the Lord,

And the glorified saints and the martyrs are there,

And there all who palm-wreaths of victory

wear!

3 The trumpet! the trumpet! the dead have all heard;

Lo, the depths of the stone-cover'd charnel are stirr'd!

From the sea, from the earth, from the south, from the north,

All the vast generations of man are come forth!

4 The judgment! the judgment! the thrones are all set,

Where the Lamb and the white-vested elders are met!

There all flesh is at once in the sight of the Lord,

And the doom of eternity hangs on his word.

5 O mercy! O mercy! look down from above, Great Creator, on us, thy sad children, with love!

When beneath to their darkness the wicked are driven,

May our justified souls find a welcome in heaven!

274

YES

The Missionary's Farewell.

8s, 7, 4.

ES, my native land, I love thee, All thy scenes, I love them well. Friends, connections, happy country! Can I bid you all farewell?

Can I leave you,

Far in heathen lands to dwell?

2 Home! thy joys are passing lovely;
Joys no stranger heart can tell!
Happy home! 'tis sure I love thee!
Can I-can I--say, Farewell?
Can I leave thee,

Far in heathen lands to dwell?

8 Scenes of sacred peace and pleasure, Holy days and Sabbath-bell, Richest, brightest, sweetest treasure! Can I say a last farewell?

Can I leave you,

Far in heathen lands to dwell?

4 Yes, I hasten from you gladly,
From the scenes I loved so well!
Far away, ye billows, bear me,
Lovely native land, farewell!
Pleased I leave thee,

Far in heathen lands to dwell.

5 In the deserts let me labor,

On the mountains let me tell, How he died-the blessed SaviorTo redeem a world from hell! Let me hasten,

Far in heathen lands to dwell.

6 Bear me on, thou restless ocean,
Let thy winds my canvass swell;
Heaves my heart with warm emotion,
While I go far hence to dwell.
Glad I bid thee,

Native land, farewell-farewell!

275

T

12, 11, 12, 8.

HE Prince of Salvation in triumph is riding,

And glory attends him along his bright way; The news of his grace on the breezes is gliding, And nations are owning his sway.

2 And now through the darkest of earth's gloomy region,

The wheels of his chariot are rolling sublime; His banners unfolding his own true religion, Dispelling the errors of time.

& Behold a bright angel from heaven descending, High lifting his trumpet, hosannas to raise; Hail! Son of the Highest! let every knee bending,

Adore thee with offerings of praise.

4 Thy sword and thy buckler shall save and deliver

The poor and the needy from foes that assail; Thy bow and thy quiver shall vanquish for ever The prince and the legions of hell.

5 Ride on, in thy greatness, thou conquering Savior,

Let thousands of thousands submit to thy reign

Acknowledge thy goodness, entreat for thy favor, And follow thy glorious train.

6 Ride on till the compass of thy gre dominion

The globe shall encircle from pole unto pole And mankind cemented with friendship an union,

Obey thee with heart and with soul.

7 Then loud shall ascend from each sanctified nation,

The voice of thanksgiving, the chorus of

praise,

And heaven shall echo the song of salvation,
In rich and melodious praise.

276

OF

8, 7, 4.

WE trust the day is breaking! Joyful times are near at hand; God-the mighty God-is speaking, By his word in every land.

When he chooses, Darkness flies at his command.

2 While the foes become more daring,
While he enters like a flood,
Christ, our Savior, is preparing
Means to spread his truth abroad.
Every language

Soon shall tell the love of God.

8 O'tis pleasant-'tis reviving

To our hearts to hear each day
Joyful news from far arriving!
How the gospel wins its way-
Those enlightening,

Who in death and darkness lay.

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4 God of Jacob, high and glorious,
Let thy people see thy hand;
Let the gospel be victorious

Through the world-in every land.
Then shall idols

Perish, Lord, at thy command.

277

12, 11.

OW painfully pleasing the fond recollec

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Of youthful companions and innocent joy, When blest with parental advice and affection,

Surrounded with mercies and peace from on high.

I still view the chairs of my father and mother,

The seats of their offspring, as ranged on each hand,

And the richest of books, which excels every other,

The family Bible that lay on the stand-
The old-fashioned Bible, the dear, blessed
Bible,

The family Bible that lay on the stand.

2 The Bible, the volume of God's inspiration, At morning and evening could yield us delight;

And the

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prayer of our sire was a sweet invo

For mercy by day, and for safety thro' night. Our hymns of thanksgiving with harmony swelling,

All warm from the hearts of a family band, Half raised us from earth to that rapturous dwelling,

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