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HYMN 816, L. M.

Prayer for Laborers.
1 LORD of the harvest, bend thine ear,

For Zion's heritage appear;
Oh! send forth laborers filled with zeal,

Swift to obey their Master's will.
2 Our lifted eyes, O Lord, behold

The ripening harvest tinged with gold;
Wide fields are opening to our view;

The work is great, the laborers few.
3 Under the guidance of thy hand,

May Zion's sons to every land
Go forth, to bless the dying race,

As heralds of redeeming grace.
4 Bid all their hearts with ardor glow,

The Saviour's dying love to show,
And spread the gospel's joyful sound,
Far as the race of man is found.

817 f

HYMN 817, 78 and 6s.

Success of the Gospel.
1 The morning light is breaking,

The darkness disappears;
The sons of earth are waking

To penitential tears :
Each breeze that sweeps the ocean

Brings tidings from afar,
Of nations in commotion,

Prepared for Zion's war.
2 See heathen nations bending

Before the God we love,
And thousand hearts ascending

In gratitude above;
While sinners, now confessing,

The gospel call obey,
And seek the Saviour's blessing.

A nation in a day.
3 Blest river of salvation,

Pursue thy onward way;
Flow thou to every nation,

Nor in thy richness stay;
Stay not till all the lowly

Triumphant reach their home;

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Stay not till all the holy

Proclaim, The Lord is come! 818

HYMN 818, L. M.

Sleeping in Jesus.
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1
A SLEEP in Jesus ! blessed sleep;

From which none ever wakes to weep!
A calm and undisturbed repose,

Unbroken by the last of foes. mp

2 Asleep in Jesus! Oh! how sweet,

To be for such a slumber meet!
With holy confidence to sing,

That death has lost his venomed sting.
3 Asleep in Jesus ! peaceful rest,

Whose waking is supremely blest!
No fear, no woe, shall dim that hour

Which manifests the Saviour's power. тр 4 Asleep in Jesus! Oh! for me

May such a blissful refuge be.!
Securely shall my ashes lie,

And wait the summons from on high. 819

HYMN 819, L. M. 6 Lines.

Pilgrims homeward bound.
1 T EADER of faithful souls, and guide

Of all that travel to the sky,
Come, and with us, e'en us, abide,

Who would on thee alone rely;
On thee alone our spirits stay,

While held in life's uneven way. mp 2 Strangers and pilgrims here below,

This earth, we know, is not our place;
But hasten through the vale of woe,

And, restless to behold thy face,
Swift to our heavenly country move,

Our everlasting home above.
3 Patient th' appointed race to run,

This weary world we cast behind;
From strength to strength we travel on,

The New Jerusalem to find :
Our labor this, our only aim,

To find the New Jerusalem.
4 Through thee, who all our sins hast borne,

Freely and graciously forgiven,

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With songs to Zion we return,

Contending for our native heaven,-
That palace of our glorious King;
We find it nearer while we sing.

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820

HYMN 820, L. M.

No Abiding City here. тр

! We seek a city out of sight: Zion its name-the. Lord is there,

It shines with everlasting light.
2 “We've no abiding city here”-

This may distress the worldly mind,
But should not cost the saint a tear,

Who hopes a better rest to find.
3 “We've no abiding city here”-

Then let us live as pilgrims do;
Let not the world our rest appear;

But let us haste from all below.
4 O sweet abode of peace and love,

Where pilgrims, freed from toil, are bless'd! Had I the pinions of a dove,

I'd flee to thee, and be at rest.

821

HYMN 821, L. M.
With Christ in Heaven.

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1 AS when the weary traveler gains

The height of some o'erlooking hill,
His heart revives, if o'er the plains

He sees his home, though distant still,
2 So when the Christian pilgrim views,

By faith, his mansion in the skies,
The sight his fainting strength renews,

And wings his speed to reach the prize.
3 “'Tis there,” he says, “I am to dwell

With Jesus in the realms of day;
Then shall I bid my cares farewell,

And he will wipe my tears away."
4 Jesus, on thee our hope depends

To lead us on to thy abode,
Assured our home will make amends

For all our toil while on the road.

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822

HYMN 822, C. M.

Heaven in Prospect. mp

ND let this feeble body fail,

And let it droop and die;
My soul shall quit the mournful vale,

And soar to worlds on high.
aff' 2 Oh! what hath Jesus bought for me!

Before my ravished eyes
Rivers of life divine I see,

And trees of Paradise.

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mf 3 I see a world of spirits bright,

Who reap the pleasures there;
They all are robed in purest white,

And conquering palms they bear.
4 Oh! what are all my sufferings here,

If, Lord, thou count me meet
With that enraptured host to appear,

And worship at thy feet!
mf 5 Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,

Take life or friends away;
I come to find them all again

In that eternal day. 823

HYMN 823, 8s and 78.

Heaven discerned. dol 1

MY days are gliding swiftly by,

And I, a pilgrim stranger,
Would not detain them as they fly,

Those hours of toil and danger.
mf 2 We'll gird our loins, my brethren dear

Our heavenly home discerning;
Our absent Lord has left us word,

Let every lamp be burning.
3 Should coming days be cold and dark,

We need not cease our singing;
That perfect rest naught can molest,

Where golden harps are ringing.
4 Let sorrow's rudest tempest blow,

Each chord on earth to sever;
Our king says come, and there's our home,

Forevor, oh! forever!

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CHORUS.

f For oh! we stand on Jordan's strand,

Our friends are passing over, And, just before, the shining shore

We may almost discover. 824

HYMN 824, 6s and 4s.

Heaven is my Home. mp 1 I'M but a stranger here

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Heaven is my home;
Earth is a desert drear,

Heaven is my home;
Danger and sorrow stand
Round me on every hand,
Heaven is my Father-land,

Heaven is my home.
2 What though the tempest rage,

Heaven is my home;
Short is my pilgrimage,

Heaven is my home;
And time's wild, wintry blast
Soon will be overpast,
I shall reach home at last,
Heaven is my home.

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3 Therefore I murmur not,

Heaven is my home;
Whate'er my earthly lot,

Heaven is my home;
And I shall surely stand
There at my Lord's right hand :
Heaven is my Father-land,

Heaven is my home.

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825

HYMN 825, s. M.

Forever with the Lord.
1 "FOREVER with the Lord !”

Amen! so let it be:
Life from the dead is in that word;

'Tis immortality!
2 Here, in the body pent,

Absent from him I roam;
Yet nightly pitch my moving tent

A day's march nearer home. mf

3 My Father's house on high, dol Home of my soul! how near,

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