3 Christians, ye prize the Saviour's blood,
In which the soul is cleansed for God;
Millions of souls in darkness dwell,
Uncleansed from sin-exposed to hell:
-O strive that heathens soon may view
That precious blood, which cleanseth you!
ROM Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver
Their land from error's chain.
2 What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle,
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile:
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown,
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
3 Shall we, whose souls are lighted
With Wisdom from on high,
Shall we to men benighted
The lamp of life deny?
Salvation! oh, Salvation!
The joyful sound proclaim,
Till each remotest nation
Has learn'd Messiah's name.
4 Waft, waft, ye winds, his story,
And you, ye waters, roll,
Till like a sea of glory,
It spreads from pole to pole:
Till o'er our ransom'd nature,
The Lamb for sinners slain,
Redeemer, King, Creator,
In bliss returns to reign!
BLEST are the souls that hear and know
The Gospel's joyful sound;
Peace shall attend the path they go,
And light their steps surround.
2 Their joy shall bear their spirits up,
Through their Redeemer's Name:
His righteousness exalts their hope,
Nor Satan dares condemn.
3 The Lord, our glory and defence,
Strength and salvation gives,
Israel, thy King for ever reigns,
Thy God for ever lives.
LORD of the worlds above!
How pleasant and how fair,
The dwellings of thy love,
Thine earthly temples are!
To thine abode my heart aspires,
With warm desires to see my God.
O happy souls that pray
Where God delights to hear!
O happy men that pay
Their constant service there!
They praise thee still; and happy they,
Who love the way to Zion's hill.
They go from strength to strength,
Through this dark vale of tears;
Till each o'ercomes at length,
Till each in heaven appears.
O glorious seat! our God and King,
Shalt thither bring our willing feet.
God is our Sun and Shield,
Our light and our defence;
With gifts his hands are fill'd;
We draw our blessings thence:
He shall bestow on Israel's race
His saving grace and glory too.
The Lord his people loves;
His hand no good withholds,
From those whom he approves,
From holy, humble souls;
Thrice happy he, O Lord of Hosts,
Whose spirit trusts alone in thee!
OW pleasant, how divinely fair,
O Lord of hosts, thy dwellings are!
With long desire my spirit faints
To meet the assemblies of thy saints.
2 My flesh would rest in thine abode,
My panting heart cries out for God;
My God! my King! why should I be
So far from all my joys and thee?
3 Blest are the souls that find a place,
Within the temple of thy grace;
There they behold thy gentler rays,
And seek thy face, and learn thy praise.
4 Blest are the men whose hearts are set
To find the way to Sion's gate;
God is their strength, and, through the road,
They lean upon their helper, God.
5 Cheerful they walk with growing strength, Till all shall meet in heaven at length:
Till all before thy face appear,
And join in nobler worship there.
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