DARTMOUTH. 8.7. 4 64 From Mozart. Patriarch, and holy prophet, To the Lord of all, are there. Marching with thy cross their banner, They have triumphed, following Thee, the Captain of Salvation, Thee, their Saviour and their King. Gladly, Lord, with thee they suffered; Gladly, Lord, with thee they died; And by death to life immortal They were born, and glorified. Now they reign in heavenly glory : Now they walk in golden light; Now they drink, as from a river, Holy bliss and infinite; Love and peace they taste for ever; In the beatific vision Of the Father and of thee. Elim. 755. Humble Confession. NOT worthy, Lord, to gather up the crumbs I am not worthy to be thought thy child, My praise can only breathe itself in prayer, The Broken Shield. Oн, send me not away! for I would drink, Chide not my steps, that venture near the brink, Went I not forth undaunted and alone, E. H. Bickersteth. WHITE. II. IO. T. B. White. 756. Was I not girded for the battle-field? Bore I not helm of pride and glittering sword? Death of a Christian in his Prime. Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime, A Christian cannot die before his time; Go to the grave: at noon from labor cease; Go to the grave; for there thy Saviour lay Go to the grave: no, take thy seat above; 319 Book of Hymns. 1848. James Montgomery. VOX ANGELICA. 11. 10. 9. Rev. John Bacchus Dykes. 1861. 4% Chorus. "The Pilgrims of the Night." 757. O'er earth's green fields and ocean's wave-beat shore ; Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night. All journeys end in welcomes to the weary, And heaven, the heart's true home, will come at last. Chorus. Angels sing on, your faithful watches keeping; Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above; While we toil on, and soothe ourselves with weeping, Till life's long night shall break in endless love. Chorus. Modern Harp. EDINBURGH. II. 758. 759. Ministering Spirits. How dear is the thought that the angels of God Oh, the outward is gone, but in moments serene A glorious cloud, their bright witness is given; The Living Dead. FORGET not the dead, who have loved, who have left us, Repeat their fond words, all their noble deeds cherish; Hymns of the Spirit. Other joys may be lost, but their names should not perish, |