Proclaim the lofty praise

Of Him who once was slain,

When shall I see the day

That ends my tears and woes?

To live and reign;

He lives and reigns on high,

Who bought us with his blood, Enthroned above the farthest sky, Our Saviour, God.

The Son of God adore;

Ye ransomed, spread his fame; With joy and gladness, evermore Laud his great name;

Let every tongue confess

That Jesus Christ is Lord,
And every creature join to bless
Th' incarnate Word.

All honor, power, and praise,
To Jesus' name belong;

With hosts seraphic, glad, we raise

The sacred song:"Worthy the Lamb," they cry, "That on the cross was slain, But now, ascended up on high, He lives to reign."

He lives to bless and save

The souls redeemed by grace, And rescue from the dreary grave

His chosen race;

And soon we hope, above,

A louder strain to sing,

With all our powers to praise and love Our Saviour, King.

Sarah Boardman Judson, 1803-1845.

O'er all my foes?

When will the trumpet sound
That calls the exiles home?
The promised great Sabbatic year,
When will it come?

The crown of glory bright,
By faith, laid up I see,

In yonder realms of cloudless light,
Prepared for me.

Oh, may I faithful prove,

And keep the prize in view,

And steadfast thro' the storms of life, My way pursue.

Jesus, be thou my Guide,

My pilgrim steps attend,
Oh, keep me ever near thy side,
My Saviour, Friend.

Be thou my Shield and Sun,

My Saviour and my Guard,

And when my work on earth is done, My great Reward.

Oh, how I long to see

That happy, happy day,

When sorrow, sighing, sin, and pain, Shall flee away.

When all the heavenly tribes

Shall find their long-sought home; The promised jubilee of heaven, When will it come?

Unknown, cir. 1840. Arr. H., 1886

1275-1276

10 Psalm cxlv. 5.

I love to tell the story

Of unseen things above;
Of Jesus and his glory,
Of Jesus and his love;
I love to tell the story,
Because I know 'tis true;
It satisfies my longings,
As nothing else would do.
CHORUS.

I love to tell the story;
"Twill be my theme in glory,
To tell the old, old story
Of Jesus and his love.

I love to tell the story;
More wonderful it seems
Than all the golden fancies
Of all our golden dreams.
I love to tell the story,

It did so much for me!
And that is just the reason
I tell it now to thee.

I love to tell the story;

'Tis pleasant to repeat

What seems, each time I tell it, More wonderfully sweet.

You a torblos Insha

I love to tell the story, quote all
For some have never heard
The message of salvation,
From God's own holy word.
I love to tell the story;

For those who know it best
Seem hungering and thirsting
To hear it like the rest.
And when, in scenes of glory,
I sing the new, new song,
"Twill be the old, old story
That I have loved so long.

Kate Hankey, ab. 1865.
Let all the angels of God worship him.
Heb. i. 6.

12761
Let all the angels worship,'
Let all the saints adore
The Father's sole begotten,
Who lives to die no more:
No tongue his glory telleth,
No eye his. power can see;
In him the godhead dwelleth,
In fullest majesty.

CHORUS.

78, 6s. S

While all heaven's hosts adore Thee,
Thou Brightness of God's glory;
We too would bow before Thee,
Our Saviour, God, and King.

H., 1886.

1277

Who have fled for refuge. Heb. vi. 18.

7s & 6s.

By many sorrows burdened, Weighed down by sin and guilt, My soul hath fled to Jesus,

Whose blood for me was spilt; And in his boundless mercy

My heart hath found repose
From all my inward sorrow,
From all my outward foes.
CHORUS.

Oh, refuge of the weary,
In sin's dark desert dreary!
Come, all ye heavy laden,

And in his love find rest.

When Satan would affright me,
And sins disturb my soul;
When tempests lower above me,
And waters o'er me roll;
When all around is vocal
With terror and alarm,
I flee to Christ for refuge,

And trust his mighty arm.

My house, though small and lowly,
Is built upon a rock;
It fears no torrent's fury,

It dreads no tempest's shock;
Though helpless and unworthy,
Yet confident I cling,
And trust in God to hide me
Beneath his sheltering wing.

Strong in my mighty refuge,
My soul secure doth sit;
I hear my Saviour's counsels
While lingering at his feet;
And looking up confiding,

I meet the loving eye
Of Him who bore my sorrows,
And for my sins did die.
In Him all grace and mercy,

All power and love unite;
He is my strength and wisdom,
My righteousness and light.
In him my soul hath pardon,

And rest, and joy, and peace; His smile, like summer sunshine, Bids doubt and anguish cease.

1277-1278

And make our sorrows cease;
O earth, take up the story,
And hail the Prince of peace!
CHORUS.

All hail, thou King of glory,
We wave our palms before thee,
With angel throngs adore thee,
And crown thee Lord of all.
Behold, behold He cometh,
To wipe away our tears;
Long have we waited for him,
Lo, he our God appears!
The King in all his beauty
Soon shall our eyes behold,
And dwell in his fair city,

And walk the streets of gold.
Behold, behold, He cometh,
With many a flaming crown;
All kingdoms fall before him,
Before him kings bow down:
Angels and men adoring,

Low at his footstool fall, With singing go before him, And crown him Lord of all. Behold, behold, He cometh!

At midnight sounds the cry; Ye virgins, rise to meet him,

The bridegroom draweth nigh: Oh, let your lamps be burning,

Oh, watch, and wait, and sing, Till Christ, from heaven returning, The crown of life shall bring.

H., 1880.

2 The summer sun was beaming, The sweat was on his brow; His raiment was all dusty,

And his step was very slow. Still he kept pressing forward, For he was wending home, And he shouted as he journeyed,

"Deliverance will come!"

3 The songsters in the arbors
That grew beside the way
Attracted his attention,
Inviting his delay.

His watchword being "Onward!"
He stopped his ears and ran,
Still shouting as he journeyed,
"Deliverance will come!"

4 I saw him in the evening,
When the sun was bending low,
He overtopped the mountain,

And reached the valé below. His Elder Brother met him

His journey it was doneAnd he shouted, as it ended, "Deliverance will come!"

5 IIis eyes were dim and heavy,
His body weak and wan,
Therefore his Brother gave him
A couch to lie upon;

And closed the blinds around him,
And locked him up alone,
That nothing might disturb him,
Till deliverance should come.

6 Hope made for him a pillow,
And faith a garment rare,
To wrap him in his slumbers,

Till Christ his home prepare.
But when the dawn of morning
Broke in his little room,
He rose, and cried "Hosanna!
Deliverance has come!"

7 Then I heard the song of triumph
He sung upon that shore,
Saying, "Jesus has redeemed me,
To suffer never more;"
And casting his eyes backward
On the race that he had run,
He shouted loud, "Hosanna!
Deliverance has come!"

J. B. Matthias, cir. 1820. Charles T. Catlin, cir. 1845?