67. The Christian Soldier. HANDEL'S MARCH. SOLDIERS of Christ, arise, And put your armour on; Through his eternal Son; And in his mighty power; conqueror. With all his strength endued; And take, to arm you for the fight, The panoply of God: That having all things done, And stand complete at last. To God with faith draw near; prayer: Go to his temple, go, Nor from his altar move; And ev'ry heart his love. of From strength to strength go on, Wrestle, and fight, and pray; Tread all the powers of darkness down, And win the well-fought day: Still let the Spirit cry In all his soldiers, Come;" Till Christ your Saviour shall draw nigh, And take the conqu'rors home. 68. A Funeral Hymn for a Believer. NEW JERUSALEM. HOSANNA to Jesus on high! Another has enter'd his rest; And clasp'd in the arms of his love. How happy the angels that fall The saints whom he soonest shall call No longer imprison'd in clay; Who next from his dungeon shall fly? Who first shall be summon'd away? My merciful God-Is it I?. O Jesus! if this be thy will, That suddenly I should depart; Thy counsel of mercy reveal, And whisper the call to my heart: O give me a signal to know, If soon thou would'st have me remove; And leave the dull body below, And fly to the regions of love. 69. Christ the Believer's Refuge. MOUNT PLEASANT. IN every trouble sharp and strong, My soul to Jesus flies; When swelling billows rise. I trust a faithful God; Is in a Saviour's blood. a Loud hallelujahs sing, my soul, To thy Redeemer's name; In joy, in sorrow, in sorrow, life and death, His love is still the same. 70. A Prospect of Heaven makes Death easy. PROSPECT. . Where saints immortal reign; And pleasures banish pain. There everlasting spring abides, And never-with’ring flowers : Death, like a narrow sea, divides This heavenly land from ours. Sweet fields, beyond the swelling flood, Stand dress'd in living green: While Jordan roll'd between. To cross this narrow sea; Afraid to launch away. Those gloomy doubts that rise! With unbeclouded eyes! And view the landscape o'er; Should fright us from the shore. a 71. Christ precious to a Belieter. MISSIONARY. JESUS, I love thy charming name, 'Tis music to my ear; Fain would I sound it out so loud, That earth and heaven might hear. Yes, thou art precious to my soul, My transport, and my trust; And gold is sordid dust. In thee most richly meet; Nor friendship half so sweet. And shed its fragrance there; The cordial of its care. With my last lab'ring breath; My joy in life and death. 72. A Divine Rapture. FARRINGDON. FROM thee, my God, my joys shall rise, And run eternal rounds; Beyond the limits of the skies, And all created bounds. |