Glory. Tune-Cliff.

4

5

withstand,

Yet I shall gain the better land;
The cloudy pillar guides the way,
A fire by night, a shade by day.

Although Voltaire and Thomas
Paine,

They tried to prove religion vain;
Though Robert Owen and Carlile,
They do the bleeding Lamb revile;

Oh, come poor sinner, fly with me,
Then thou shalt God's salvation see;
Repent, and have thy sins forgiven,
Believe, and go with me to heaven.

6 If you get home before I do,
Look out for me, I'm coming too;
If I reach home before you do,
I'll tell them you are coming too.

7 And when we land on Canaan's shore,

We will bless him who went with us to the end;

We'll sing salvation evermore, And we'll bless him who went with us to the end.

410.

JOHN STAMP.

Sailing to Glory. 1 WE'RE sailing to a better world, Sing glory, hallelujah ;

Our every sail is now unfurled,
Sing glory, hallelujah.

Our Jesus does the vessel steer,

Sing glory, hallelujah ;

The heavenly port we 're drawing near,

Sing glory, hallelujah.

3 Our ship's the vessel of free grace, Sing glory, hallelujah ; The heavenly port's our landing place,

Sing glory, hallelujah.

4 The prophets in this ship went home,

Sing glory, hallelujah ;
But still a guilty world may come,
Sing glory, hallelujah.

Apostles, martyrs, Wesley, too,
Sing glory, hallelujah,

Inritation.

S. M.

YE guilty souls, arise,

And go with us to heaven;
For Jesus now in mercy cries,
The worst may be forgiven.

2 Backslider, come again,

This moment, and be bless'd;

Fly to the Lamb for sinners slain,
And now regain thy rest.

3 Believer in the blood,

Rush to thy Saviour's side;

By faith now plunge thee 'neath the flood,

And thou 'lt be sanctified.

4 Look up, poor suffering saint,

Thy sorrows soon shall end;

Thy Father hears thy sad complaint, He will thy soul defend.

5 We soon shall land above

On Canaan's peaceful shore; Then we shall sing redeeming love For ever, evermore.

With heavenly truth the rails are laid,

And from heaven to earth extends, To life eternal, where it ends. 2 Repentance is the station, then, Where passengers are taken in;

No fee for them is there to pay, For Jesus is himself the way.

3 God's word is the first engineer, It points the way to heaven clear, Through tunnels dark and dreary here,

It does the way to glory steer.

4 God's word the fire, his truth the steam,

Which drives the engine and the train;

And all who would to glory ride, Must come to Christ and there abide. 5 In first, and second, and third class, Repentance, faith, and holiness; You must the way to glory gain, Or you with Christ can never reign. 6 Come, then, poor sinners, now 's the time,

At any station on the line;
If you repent, and turn from sin,
The train will stop and take you in.

413. Glory, Hallelujah.

Tune-In my Cottage near a
Wood.

1

GLORY

LORY be to God on high,
Glory, hallelujah!

Who hath brought the guilty nigh,

Glory, hallelujah!

Through the rich atoning blood
Of the spotless Lamb of God;
Therefore let us cry aloud,

Glory, hallelujah.

2 Glory be to Christ on high,
Glory, hallelujah!
Who for sinners came to die,
Glory, hallelujah!
By his death we are assured,
He Jehovah's wrath endur'd,
And life to guilty man secur'd,
Glory, hallelujah.

3 Now the law's demands are paid, Glory, hallelujah!

All its precepts Christ obey'd,
Glory, hallelujah!
Glory to redeeming grace,
Shines in our Immanuel's face,
Towards all our guilty race,
Glory, hallelujah.

4 Glory to the sacred Three,
Glory, hallelujah!
Who are One and all agree,
Glory, hallelujah!

3 Now we draw our every pleasure
Down from the sky;
There's our everlasting treasure,
Up in the sky;

Jesu's grace shall onward cheer us,
Hope, and love, and joy, prepare us,
Prayer and faith unite to bear us
Up to the sky.

4 We must pass through tribulation, Up to the sky;

And escape from great temptation,
Up to the sky;
Pain and sorrow will attend us,
Sinful pleasures oft offend us,
But the Saviour will befriend us,
Up to the sky.

5 Then, all clad in robes of glory,
Up in the sky;

We shall sing redemption's story,
Up in the sky;

In that high and blissful dwelling,
Jesu's love we 'll e'er be telling,
And the anthem ever swelling,
Up in the sky.

JOHN STAMP.

Attending angels joined his praise, Who claimed the kingdom for his

own;

Hail, Immanuel! Immanuel we 'll adore,

And sound his fame from shore to shore.

2 Girt with omnipotence supreme, The powers of darkness trembling stood,

To hear the dire decree, and feel
The vengeance of the mighty God.
Chorus-Hail, Immanuel, &c.

3 Not with the sword that warriors wear,

4

But with a sceptre dipt in blood;
He bends the nations to obey,
And rules them with the love of
God.

May the memory of his name

Inspire our armies for the fight; Our vaunting foes shall die with shame,

Or quit our coasts with hasty fight.

5 In his salvation is our board,

And in the strength of Israel's
God,

Our troops shall lift their banners
high,

Our navies spread their flags abroad.

6 Soon may the kingdoms of the earth,

From sin and Satan's dreadful

9 Soon shall the monster sin submit His hateful sceptre to thy call; Death, and death's author, soon shall die,

And Jesus Christ be all in all.

416. Air The Light of other Days.

The Transformation.

2 There is mourning in Zion, her standard is lying

Defiled in the dust, to the spoiler a

prey;

And now there is wailing, and sorrow prevailing,

For the best of her children are weeded away.

crowded,

2 The darkness of my soul was terror, Fair hope's strong anchor broke! Yet, drifted on a sea of error,

No voice of gladness woke. Then high on Calvary's summit gleaming,

The cross of Jesus rose, And o'er my heart its glory streaming,

Gave joy and sweet repose.

3 This heavenly light has never faded

In sorrow's darkest hour; Tho' oft its brightness clouds have shaded,

It never lost its power. The meteor-lights of earth may bicker,

And pale their sickly rays;

But Calvary's light can

flicker

It shines thro' endless days!

never

417. Tune Flowers of the Forest. 1 THERE was gladness in Zion, her

The Scottish Martyrs' Hymn.

standard was flying,

Free o'er her battlements, glorious and gay;

All fair as the morning shone forth her adorning,

And fearful to foes was her goodly array.

place is forsaken,

The man and the maiden, the green and the gay,

The voice of the weepers wails over the sleepers;

The martyrs of Scotland that now are away.

4 The hue of her waters is crimson'd with slaughters,

And the blood of the martyrs has redden'd the clay;

And dark desolation broods over the nation,

For the faithful are perished, the good are away.

5 On the mountains of heather they slumber together,

On the wastes of the moorlands their bodies decay;

How sound is their sleeping, how safe is their keeping,

Though far from their kindred they moulder away.

6 Their blessing shall hover their children to cover,

Like the cloud of the desert by night and by day;

Oh, never to perish, their names we shall cherish,

The martyrs of Scotland that now are away.

For there's nothing on earth we need fear,

While in heaven we know we 've a friend.

420.

1

2

3

4

The Better Land

Tune-Happy Land.

KNOW ye that better land,

Know

Where care 's unknown? that blessed band,

ye

Around the throne?
There, there is happiness,
There are streams of purest bliss;
There, there are rest and peace-
There, there, alone.

Yes, yes, we know that place,
We know it well;

Eye hath not seen his bliss,
Tongue cannot tell:

There are the angels bright,

And the saints enrobed in white-
All, all, are clothed in light,
There, there, they dwell.

Oh, we are weary here,
A youthful band;

Yet soon in glory there,

We hope to stand:

Then let us haste away,

Speed along this world's dark way, Unto that land of day,

That better land.

Come! hasten that sweet day,
Let time begone;

Come, Lord! make no delay;
On thy white throne,
Thy face we wish to see,

For to dwell and reign with Thee,
Thine, thine, for ever be,
Thine, thine, alone.

421. Tune Those evening bells. The Hour of Prayer.

WEET hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer,

That calls me from a world of care; And bids me at my Father's throne Make all my wants and wishes

known.

In seasons of distress and grief,
My soul has often found relief;
And oft escaped the tempter's

snare,

By thy return, sweet hour of prayer.