Great King of kings, why dost Thou stay, Why tar-riest Thou up - on Thy way,

2 When, shriveling like a parched 3 0 on that day, that wrathful day, scroll,

When man to judgment wakes from The flaming heavens together roll;

clay When louder yet, and yet more dread, Be Thou, ó Christ, the sinner's stay, Resounds the trump that wakes the Though heaven and earth shall pass dead;

1
How sweet the truth those bless - ed strains are

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2 Onward we go, for still we hear them singing,

'Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come;'
And through the dark, its echoes sweetly ringing,
The music of the gospel leads us home.

Angels of Jesus, Angels of light,
Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night.

3 Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing,

The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea,
And laden souls by thousands meekly stealing,
Kind Shepherd, turn their weary steps to Thee.

Angels of Jesus, Angels of light,
Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night.

4 Rest comes at length: though life be long and dreary,

The day must dawn, and darksome night be past;
Faith's journeys end in welcome to the weary,
And heaven, the heart's true home, will come at last.

Angels of Jesus, Angels of light,
Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night.

5 Angels, sing on! your faithful watches keeping;

Sing us sweet fragments of the songs above;
Till morning's joy shall end the night of weeping,
And life's long shadows break in cloudless love,

Angels of Jesus, Angels of light,
Singing to welcome the pilgrims of the night.

Frederick W. Faber, 1854

4 Thou hast no shore, fair ocean!

Thou hast no time, bright day!
Dear fountain of refreshment

To pilgrinis far away!
Upon the Rock of Ages

They raise thy holy tower; Thine is the victor's laurel,

And thine the golden dower.

5 O sweet and blessed country,

The home of God's elect!
O sweet and blessed country

That eager hearts expect!
Jesus, in mercy bring us

To that dear land of rest;
Who art, with God the Father
And Spirit, ever blest.

Bernard of Cluny, ca. 1145

609

C. M.

II. S. Irons, 1861

1 me!

sa - lem my hap - py home, Name ev - er dear to

2 When shall these eyes thy heaven- 5 Why should I shrink from pain and built walls

woe, And pearly gates behold?

Or feel at death dismay? Thy bulwarks with salvation strong, I've Canaan's goodly land in view, And streets of shining gold?

And realms of endless day. 3 () when, thou city of my God,

6 Apostles, martyrs, prophets there Shall I thy courts ascend,

Around my Savior stand; Where evermore the angels sing,

And soon my friends in Christ below Where sabbaths have no end?

Will join the glorious band. 4 There happier bowers than Eden's

7 Jerusalem, my happy home! Nor sin nor sorrow know; [bloom. My soul still pants for thee; Blest seats! through rude and stormy Then shall my labors have an end, scenes

When I thy joy shall see. I onward press to you.

Anon., 16th or 17th Century