4 When, worn by toil, their spirits fail,
Bid them the future prospect hail;
Bid them the crown of life survey,
And onward urge their glorious way.
5 So, o'er the heathen's gloomy night,
Truth shall diffuse her radiant light;
And mild religion's pow'r control
The stormy passions of the soul.
For the Success of Christian Missionaries.
1 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 Java's isle,
Though ev'ry prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strewn,
The heathen, in his blindness,
Bows down to wood and stone!
3 Can we whose souls are lighted
With wisdom from on high,
Can we, to man benighted,
The lamp of life deny?
Salvation! oh, salvation!
The joyful sound proclaim,
"Till each remotest nation
Has learnt 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.
VHY those fears? behold 'tis Jesus
Holds the helm, and guides the ship:
Spread the sails, and catch the breezes
Sent to waft us through the deep,
To the regions
Where the mourners cease to weep.
2 Could we stay where death was hov'ring, Could we rest on such a shore?
No, the awful truth discov'ring,
We could linger there no more:
We forsake it,
Leaving all we lov'd before.
3 Though the shore we hope to land on
Only by report is known,
Yet we freely all abandon,
Led by that report alone;
And with Jesus
Through the trackless deep move on.
EFORE Jehovah's awful throne,
Ye nations, bow with sacred joy;
Know that the Lord is God alone;
He can create, and he destroy.
2 His sov'reign pow'r, without our aid,
Made us of clay, and form'd us men;
And when like wand'ring sheep we stray'd,
He brought us to his fold again.
3. We'll crowd thy gates with thankful songs,
High as the heav'ns our voices raise :
And earth, with her ten thousand tongues,
Shall fill thy courts with sounding praise.
4 Wide as the world is thy command!
Vast as eternity thy love!
Firm as a rock thy truth shall stand
When rolling years shall cease to move.
HYMN XLVI. (8. 7. 4.)
AVIOUR, through the desert lead us;
Without thee we cannot go;
Thou from cruel chains hast freed us,
Thou hast laid the tyrant low:
Let thy presence
Cheer us all our journey through.
2 With a price thy love has bought us;
(Saviour, what a love is thine!)
Hitherto thy pow'r has brought us!
(Pow'r and love in thee combine!)
Lord of glory,
Ever on thine Israel shine.
3 Through a desert waste and cheerless,
Though our destin'd journey lie,
Render'd, by thy presence, fearless,
We may ev'ry foe defy.
Nought shall move us
While we see our Saviour nigh.
4 When we halt, (no track discov'ring,)
Fearful lest we go astray,
O'er our path thy pillar hov'ring,
Fire by night and cloud by day,
Shall direct us;
Thus we shall not miss our way.
HYMN XLVII.
The Dying Christian.
VITA
ITAL spark of heav'nly flame!
Quit, O quit this mortal frame!
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
Oh! the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.
2 Hark! they whisper, angels say,
"Sister spirit, come away!'
What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
3 The world recedes, it disappears;
Heav'n opens to my eyes: my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings; I mount, I fly!
O grave! where is thy victory?
O death! where is thy sting?
HYMN XLVIII.
JESUS, refuge of my soul,
To thy shelt'ring arms I fly,
While the raging billows roll,
While the tempest still is high:
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