1 LEAD ME ON. P. M. C. C. CONVerse. Trav'ling to the bet-ter land, O'er the desert's scorching sand, Father! let me grasp thy hand; Lead me on, lead me on! His saints what is fitting shall ne'er be denied, So long as 't is written, "The Lord will provide." 3 When life sinks apace, and death is in view, The word of his grace shall comfort us through: 2 The birds, without barn or store-house, Not fearing or doubting, with Christ on our are fed; side, From them let us learn to trust for our We hope to die shouting, "The Lord will provide." bread: John Newton. Forward, then, with courage go; Long we shall not dwell below; Soon the joyful news will come, "Child, your Father calls-come The gloomy night will soon be past, The morning will appear, The rays of blessed light at last Each eye will cheer. THEODORA. 7s. Arr. fr. HÄNDEL. Ev-er-lasting arms of love Are beneath, around, a-bove; He who left his throne of light, And unnumbered angels bright;— 742 "The everlasting arms." EVERLASTING arms of love Are beneath, around, above; He who left his throne of light, 2 He who on the accursed tree PLEVEL'S HYMN. 75. 3 All things hasten to decay, 4 Scenes will vary, friends grow strange, But the Changeless cannot change: Gladly will I journey on, With his arm to lean upon. John R. Macduff. IGNACE PLEY EL. Children of the heavenly King, As ye journey, sweetly sing; Sing your Saviour's worthy praise, Glorious in his works and ways. CHILDREN of the heavenly King, 2 Ye are traveling home to God 3 Shout, ye little flock, and blest! 5 Lord, submissive make us go, John Cennick. 744 Redeeming Love. NOW BEGIN the heavenly theme, 2 Ye who see the Father's grace 3 Mourning souls, dry up your tears; 4 Welcome, all by sin opprest, 5 Hither, then, your music bring, John Langford SEGUR. 8s, 75, 45. J. P. HOLBROOK. Guide me, O thou great Jehovah, Pilgrim thro' this barren land; I am weak,but thou art mighty; Hold me with thy powerful hand; Bread of heaven, Bread of heaven, Feed me till I want no more. Let the church new anthems raise, Wake the song of glad-ness: God him-self to joy and praise Turns the mar-tyrs' sad-ness: Bright the day that won their crown, Opened heaven's bright portal, As they laid the mortal down, To put on th'immor-tal. |