6 My Conqu'ror and my King,
Still keep me in thy train;

And with thee thy glad captive bring,
When thou return'st to reign.

Thomas H. Gill, 1859.

THE CHRISTIAN LIFE,

CONFLICT.

731.

8. M.

1 JESUS, my strength, my hope,
On thee I cast my care;
With humble confidence look up,
And know thou hear'st my prayer.

2 Give me on thee to wait,

Till I can all things do;
On thee, almighty to create,
Almighty to renew.

3 I want a godly fear,

A quick discerning eye,
That looks to thee when sin is near,
And sees the tempter fly:

4 A spirit still prepared,

And armed with jealous care;
Forever standing on its guard,
And watching unto prayer.

5 I want a heart to pray,

Το pray and never cease;
Never to murmur at thy stay,
Or wish my suff'rings less.

6 This blessing, above all,
Always to pray, I want;

Out of the deep on thee to call,
And never, never faint.

7 I want a true regard,
A single, steady aim,

Unmoved by threat'ning or reward,
To thee and thy great name;

8 A jealous, just concern

For thine immortal praise;
A pure desire that all may learn
And glorify thy grace.

9 I rest upon thy word,

The promise is for me;
My succor and salvation, Lord,
Shall surely come from thee.

10 But let me still abide,

Nor from my hope remove,
Till thou my patient spirit guide
Into thy perfect love.

732.

Charles Wesley, 1742.

S. M.

1 YE servants of the Lord,

Each in his office wait,

Observant of his heavenly word,
And watchful at his gate.

2 Let all your lamps be bright,
And trim the golden flame;
Gird up your loins, as in his sight,
For awful is his name.

3 Watch; 't is your Lord's command;
And while we speak he's near;
Mark the first signal of his hand,
And ready all appear.

4 Oh happy servant he,

In such a posture found;

He shall his Lord with rapture see,
And be with honor crowned.

5 Christ shall the banquet spread
With his own royal hand,

And raise that fav'rite servant's head
Amid the angelic band.

733.

Philip Doddridge, 1755, a.

L. M.

1 STAND up, my soul, shake off thy fears, And gird the gospel armor on; March to the gates of endless joy, [gone. Where thy great Captain-Saviour's 2 Hell and thy sins resist thy course; But hell and sin are vanquished foes; Thy Jesus nailed them to the cross, And sung the triumph when he rose. 3 Then let my soul march boldly on,

Press forward to the heavenly gate; There peace and joy eternal reign, [wait. And glittering robes for conquerors 4 There shall I wear a starry crown, And triumph in almighty grace, While all the armies of the skies Join in my glorious leader's praise.

734.

Isaac Watts, 1709.

L. M.

1 AWAKE, our souls; away, our fears;
Let every trembling thought be gone;
Awake, and run the heavenly race,
And put a cheerful courage on.

2 True, 't is a strait and thorny road,
And mortal spirits tire and faint;

But they forget the mighty God,

Who feeds the strength of every saint,

3 The mighty God, whose matchless power Is ever new and ever young,

And firm endures, while endless years
Their everlasting circles run.

4 From thee, the overflowing spring,

Our souls shall drink a fresh supply;
While such as trust their native strength
Shall melt away, and droop, and die.
5 Swift as an cagle cuts the air,

We'll mount aloft to thine abode;
On wings of love our souls shall fly,
Nor tire amid the heavenly road!

735.

Isaac Watts, 1709.

1 O ISRAEL, to thy tents repair:

L. M.

Why thus secure on hostile ground? Thy King commands thee to beware,

For many foes thy camp surround. 2 The trumpet gives a martial strain: O Israel, gird thee for the fight! Arise, the combat to maintain,

And put thine enemies to flight.

3 Thou shouldst not sleep, as others do;
Awake; be vigilant; be brave!
The coward, and the sluggard too,
Must wear the fetters of the slave.

4 A nobler lot is cast for thee;

A kingdom waits thee in the skies: With such a hope, shall Israel flee, Or yield, through weariness, the prize? 5 No; let a careless world repose,

[day, And slumber on through life's short While Israel to the conflict goes, And bears the glorious prize away!

736.

Thomas Kelly, 1806.

1 Am I a soldier of the cross,

A follower of the Lamb,

And shall I fear to own his cause,
Or blush to speak his name?

C. M.

2 Must I be carried to the skies

On flowery beds of

ease,

While others fought to win the prize,
And sailed through bloody seas?

3 Are there no foes for me to face?
Must I not stem the flood?

Is this vile world a friend to grace,
To help me on to God?

4 Sure I must fight if I would reign;
Increase my courage, Lord;
I'll bear the toil, endure the pain,
Supported by thy word.

5 Thy saints, in all this glorious war,
Shall conquer, though they die;
They view the triumph from afar,
And seize it with their eye.

6. When that illustrious day shall rise,
And all thy armies shine

In robes of victory through the skies,
The glory shall be thine.

737.

Isaac Watts, 1709.

C. M.

1 THE Son of God goes forth to war,
A kingly crown to gain,

His blood-red banner streams afar;
Who follows in his train?

2 Who best can drink his cup of woe,
Triumphant over pain,

Who patient bears his cross below,
He follows in his train.

3 The martyr first, whose eagle eye
Could pierce beyond the grave,
Who saw his Master in the sky,
And called on him to save;