Where the skies forever smile,
And th' oppressed for ever weep.
3 O'er the pagan's night of care
Pour the living light of heaven;
Chase away his wild despair;
Bid him hope to be forgiven.
4 Where the golden gates of day
Open on the palmy east,
High the bleeding cross display,
Spread the gospel's richest feast.
HYMN 602. H. M. [419]
ISLES of the south, awake!
The song of triumph sing;
Let mount, and hill, and vale,
With hallelujahs ring:
Shout, for the idol's overthrown,
And Israel's God is God alone.
2 Wild wastes of Afric, shout!
Your shackled sons are free;
No mother wails her child
'Neath the banana-tree:
No slave-ship dashes on thy shore;
The clank of chains is heard no more.
3 Shout, vales of India, shout;
No funeral fires blaze high;
No idol song rings loud,
As rolls the death-car by :
The banner of the cross now waves,
Where Christian heralds made their graves.
4 Shout, rocky hills of Greece!
The crescent head lies low: No Moslem flings his chain
Around the Christian now;
But Greek and Moslem join in one
To praise the Saviour, God the Son.
5 Shout, hills of Palestine!
Have you forgot the groan,
The spear, the thorn, the cross,
The wine-press trod alone,
The dying prayer that rose from thee,
Thou garden of Gethsemane?
6 Hail, glad millennial day!
O, shout, ye heavens above.
To-day the nations sing
The song, redeeming love:
Redeeming love the song shall be;
Hail, blessed year of jubilee!
HYMN 603. 7s. [417]
WATCHMAN! tell us of the night,
What its signs of promise are?
Traveller! o'er yon mountain's height,
See that glory-beaming star.
2 Watchman! does its beauteous ray
Aught of hope or joy foretell?
Traveller! yes; it brings the day,
Promised day of Israel.
3 Watchman! tell us of the night;
Higher yet that star ascends.
Traveller! blessedness and light,
Peace and truth, its course portends.
4 Watchman! will its beams alone
Gild the spot that gave them birth?
Traveller! ages are its own;
See, it bursts o'er all the earth..
5 Watchman! tell us of the night,
For the morning seems to dawn.
Traveller! darkness takes its flight;
Doubt and terror are withdrawn.
6 Watchman! let thy wanderings cease; Hie thee to thy quiet home.
Traveller! lo! the Prince of Peace,
Lo! the Son of God, is come.
HYMN 604. L. M. [262]
SHEPHERD of souls, with pitying eye,
The thousands of our Israel see;
To thee in their behalf we cry,
Ourselves but newly found in thee.
2 See where o'er desert wastes they err,
And neither food nor feeder have;
Nor fold, nor place of refuge near;
For no man cares their souls to save.
3 Wild as the untaught Indian's brood,
The Christian savages remain ;
Strangers, yea, enemies to God,
They make thee spill thy blood in vain. 4 Thy people, Lord, are sold for nought; Nor know they their Redeemer nigh: They perish whom thyself hast bought; Their souls for lack of knowledge die. HYMN 605. L. P. M. [263]
LORD over all, if thou hast made,
Hast ransom'd every soul of man,
Why is the grace so long delay'd?
Why unfulfill'd the saving plan?
The bliss for Adam's race design'd,
When will it reach to all mankind?
2 Art thou the God of Jews alone,
And not the God of Gentiles too? To Gentiles make thy goodness known;
Thy judgments to the nations show;
Awake them by the Gospel call;
Light of the world, illumine all!
3 The servile progeny of Ham,
Seize as the purchase of thy blood;
Let all the heathen know thy name:
From idols, to the living God,
The dark Americans convert,
And shine in every Pagan heart!
4 As lightning launch'd from east to west,
The coming of thy kingdom be;
To thee, by angel hosts confest,
Bow every soul and every knee:
Thy glory let all flesh behold!
And then fill up thy heavenly fold.
HYMN 606. 7s & 6s. [264]
HEARD ye the mighty rushing?
As storm-waked sea it came;
"Twas a nation's deep rejoicing
For her proud and spotless name.
Land of my sleeping fathers!
O'er thee no chain is flung;
Through all thy verdant valleys
The shout of joy is rung.
2 Wide o'er thy rolling rivers,
Thy fair and sunny plains,
And up thy woody mountains,
The soul of freedom reigns,
Land of my sleeping fathers!
O'er thee no chain is flung!
Through all thy verdant valleys
The shout of joy is rung.
3 And is there then no shadow
To dim this hallowed mirth?
And shall thy name, my country,
Be the watchword o'er the earth?
Are all the captives loosened?
The fettered slave set free?
Is his crushed spirit gladdened
On this gay jubilee ?
HYMN 607. 7s. [264]
DAUGHTERS of the Pilgrim sires,
Dwellers by their mould'ring graves,
Watchers of their altar fires,
Look upon your country's slaves!
2 Look! 'tis woman's streaming eye,
These are woman's fettered hands,
That to you so mournfully,
Lift sad glance and iron bands.
3 Scars are on her fettered limbs, Where the savage scourge hath been; But the grief her eye that dims, Flows from deeper wounds within: 4 For the children of her love, For the brothers of her race, Sisters, like vine branches wove, In one early dwelling-place5 For the parent forms that hung Fondly o'er her infant sleep, And for him to whom she clung With affection true and deep6 By her sad forsaken hearth, "Tis for these she wildly grieves! Now all scattered o'er the earth,
Like the wind-strewn autumn leaves!
HYMN 608. 8s, 7s, & 4s. [265]
HARK! I hear the voice of anguish,
In my own, my native land!
Brethren, doom'd in chains to languish,
Lift to heaven the fetter'd hand,
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