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Swift as an eagle cuts the air
We'll mount aloft to thine abode,
On wings of love our souls shall fly,
Nor tire amidst the heavenly road.
342. He has done all things well.
Now in a song of grateful praise,
To my dear Lord, my voice I'll raise,
With all his saints I'll join to tell,
My Jesus has done all things well.
All worlds his glorious power confess,
His wisdom all his works express;
But O his love, what tongue can tell!
My Jesus has done all things well.
How sov'reign, wonderful, and free,
Has been his love to sinful me!
This pluck'd me from the jaws of hell:-
My Jesus has done all things well.

L. M.


I spurn'd his grace, I broke his laws,
And yet he undertook my cause,
To save me though I did rebel :-
My Jesus has done all things well..
And since my soul has known his love,
What mercies has he made me prove,
Mercies which do all praise excel:
My Jesus has done all things well.
Whene'er my Saviour and my God
Has on me laid his gentle rod,
I know in all that has befel
My Jesus has done all things well.

Though many a fiery flaming dart
The tempter levels at my heart,
With this I all his rage repel,
My Jesus has done all things well.
Sometimes my Lord his face doth hide,
To make me pray, or kill my pride;
Yet then it on my mind doth dwell
My Jesus has done all things well.
Soon shall I pass the vale of death,
And in his arms shall lose my breath,
Yet then my happy soul shall tell,
My Jesus hath done all things well.
And when to that bright world I rise,
And join the anthems of the skies,
Above the rest this note shall swell,
My Jesus has done all things well.

343. The hope of Heaven our support under

trials on Earth. C. M.

WHEN I can read my title clear,

To mansions in the skies,
I bid farewell to ev'ry fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.
Should earth against my soul engage,
And hellish darts be hurl'd,
Then I can smile at Satan's rage,
And face a frowning world.

Let cares like a wild deluge come,
And storms of sorrow fall;
May I but safely reach my home,
My God, my heav'n, my all:

There shall I bathe my weary soul

In seas of heav'nly rest,

And not a wave of trouble roll
Across my peaceful breast,

344. Christian Triumph. 8. 'Tis Christ is my Saviour and King, My refuge, my portion, my God, Of him will I gratefully sing,

Will sing of his all-healing blood: His beauties I'd ever admire, Adore the eternal I AM; And feel my whole soul all on fire, With love to his wonderful name. My doubts and my fears all depart, When Jesus from Calvary shines; The love that he pours from his heart, My spirit divinely refines.

Victorious in Jesus I rise,

Nor ought can my triumphs controul;
My soul is inflam'd with his praise,
And glory resides in my soul.

The world and its trifles to me,
Are now as contemptible dross;
True joys, peace and pleasure I see,
Are only deriv'd from the cross:
Delighted with this in my view;
Transported with conqu'ring love,
I'd ever my journey pursue,
Till caught to the regions above.

345. The Christian's Resolve. C. M.
Now shall my soul on Jesus call,
To feel redeeming love;
Hinder me not, I'll say to all,
While seeking joys above.
Tho' num'rous evils make me sigh,
There's none shall e'er confound;
Hinder me not, shall be my cry,
For I'm to Canaan bound.

If men combine my soul to chase,
Ne'er may I cease to say,
Hinder me not, for mighty grace
Shall strength divine convey.
If gilded toys, allure my sight,
And court a short delay;
Hinder me not, I'll still repeat,
And still pursue my way.
If mere professors croud around,
To chill my zeal for God;
Hinder me not, I'll still resound,
Along the blissful road.

If snares abound, and foes defy, And all their strength unite; Hinder me not, shall be my cry, 'Till crown'd in realms of light. 346. The Sinner triumphing in the Saviour.

L. M.

CHRIST is my rock, my hope, my stay,
In him I triumph all the day;

Who can conceive the pure delight,
My soul enjoys when he's in sight!

Tho' num'rous evils o'er me roll,
And threathen ruin to my soul,
Still in the strength my Jesus brings,
My soul triumphant-loudly sings.

Sings in the midst of various woes;
Sings through the host of all her foes;
Pursues her rapid course to God,
Thro' the rich plea of Jesu's blood.

For all the grace that makes me sing,
I'll ever thank my God and King ;
"Tis he alone my triumphs raise,
And he alone shall have the praise.

Now to my glorious God I cry,
Lord, let me feel abounding joy;
Oh! let me triumph like a Stephen,
Triumph and sing my way to heav'n.

There on a throne of wond'rous love
I'll triumph with the hosts above;
And like the first arch-angel sing
The triumphs of my heav'nly King.

347. The Christian Soldier. 8.

BELIEVERS do wond'rous appear,
To angels, to devils, and men:
With earth, and with hell, they're at war,
In peace they shall ne'er be again.

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