win

thers crossed the

12

ND

2 Thou heard'st, well pleased, the song, the prayer:
Thy blessing came; and still its power
Shall onward through all ages bear
The memory of that holy hour.

3 Laws, freedom, truth, and faith in God
Came with those exiles o'er the waves; ]
And where their pilgrim feet have trod,
The God they trusted guards their graves.

when they trod

JOHN HATTON

try strand, With prayer and psalm they wor-shipped Thee. A-men.

lestond een

4 And here Thy name, O God of love,

Their children's children shall adore,
Till these eternal hills remove,

And spring adorns the earth no more. Amen.

ex iled

the

LEONARD BACON

543 DALKEITH IOS.

(J=116) God of our fathers, Whose al- mighty hand

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all the star

ry band

2.

splendor thro' the skies, Our grateful songs be-fore Thy throne a

·

THOMAS HEWLETT

Leads forth in

Of shining worlds in

2 Thy love divine hath led us in the past,
In this free land by Thee our lot is cast;
Be Thou our ruler, guardian, guide, and stay,
Thy word our law, Thy paths our chosen way.

3 From war's alarms, from deadly pestilence,
Be Thy strong arm our ever sure defence,
Thy true religion in our hearts increase,
Thy bounteous goodness nourish us in peace.

4 Refresh Thy people on their toilsome way,
Lead us from night to never-ending day;
Fill all our lives with love and grace divine,
And glory, laud and praise be ever Thine.

Amen.
DANIEL C ROBERTS

544 GOLDEN SHEAVES 85 & 75. D.

#4 4

(J=92) To Thee, O Lord, our hearts we raise In hymns of adoration,

4 4

To Thee bring sacrifice of praise With shouts of exultation:

Bright robes of gold the fields adorn, The hills with joy are ringing,

☺#

ARTHUR S. SULLIVAN

#1

The val-leys stand so thick with corn That e-ven they are singing. A-men.

2 And now on this our festal day, Thy bounteous hand confessing, Upon Thine altar, Lord, we lay

The first-fruits of Thy blessing.
By Thee the souls of men are fed

With gifts of grace supernal,
Thou Who dost give us daily bread,
Give us the Bread eternal.

3 We bear the burden of the day,
And often toil seems dreary;
But labor ends with sunset ray,
And rest is for the weary.

May we, the angel-reaping o'er,
Stand at the last accepted,
Christ's golden sheaves for evermore
To garners bright elected.

4 Oh, blessed is that land of God,
Where saints abide forever;

Where golden fields spread fair and broad
Where flows the crystal river:
The strains of all its holy throng

With ours to-day are blending;
Thrice blessed is that harvest-song
Which never hath an ending. Amen.
WILLIAM C. Dix

545 ST. GEORGE'S, WINDSOR 7s. D.

(J=100) Come, ye thank-ful people, come, Raise the song of harvest - home:

2 All the world is God's own field,
Fruit unto His praise to yield;
Wheat and tares together sown,
Unto joy or sorrow grown:
First the blade, and then the ear,
Then the full corn shall appear:
Lord of harvest, grant that we
Wholesome grain and pure may be.

3 For the Lord our God shall come,
And shall take His harvest home;
From His field shall in that day
All offences purge away;

GEORGE J. ELVEY

Give His angels charge at last
In the fire the tares to cast,
But the fruitful ears to store
In His garner evermore.