214

215

Welcome to Clory.

"Our feet shall stand within thy gates."-Ps. cxxii. 2.
Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 214.

OH,

H, when shall I sweep through the gates,
The scenes of mortality o'er?

What then, for my spirit awaits?

Will they sing on the glorified shore?—

Welcome home! welcome home! A welcome in glory for me;
Welcome home! welcome home! A welcome for me!

2 Yes, loved ones who knew me below,

Who learned the new song with me here,
In chorus will hail me, I know,

And welcome me home with good cheer.

3 The beautiful gates will unfold,

The home of the blood-washed I'll see ;
The city of saints I'll behold;

For oh, there's a welcome for me!

4 A sinner made whiter than snow,

I'll join in the mighty acclaim,
And shout, through the gates as I go,
"Salvation to God and the Lamb!"

Seeking to Save.

"The Son of Man is come to seek and to save that which was lost."-LUKE XiX. 10. Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 215.

216

The Gospel Rest.

"This is the rest wherewith ye may cause the weary to rest."-ISA. xxviii. 12. Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 216.

DOES

OES the gospel word proclaim
Rest for those that weary be?
Then, my soul, advance thy claim—
Sure that promise speaks to thee !
Marks of grace I cannot show
All polluted is my best;
But I weary am, I know,
And the weary long for rest

2 Burdened with a load of sin,
Harassed with tormenting doubt
Hourly conflicts from within,
Hourly crosses from without;
All my little strength is gone,
Sink I must without supply;
Sure upon the earth is none

Can more weary be than I.

3 In the ark the weary dove

Found a welcome resting-place
Thus my spirit longs to prove
Rest in Christ, the Ark of
grace.
Tempest-tossed I long have been,
And the flood increases fast;
Open, Lord, and take me in,
Till the storm be overpast.

217 In the Silent Midnight Watches.

"Ye yourselves like unto men that wait for their Lord,

155

that when He cometh and knocketh, they may open unto Him immediately."—LUKE xii. 36. Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 217.

IN

N the silent midnight watches, List-thy bosom's door;
How it knocketh, knocketh, knocketh, Knocketh evermore!

Say not 'tis thy pulse is beating, 'Tis thy heart of sin;

'Tis thy Saviour knocks, and crieth, "Rise, and let Me in !"

2 Death comes down with reckless footsteps To the hall and hut;
Think you death will tarry knocking When the door is shut?
Jesus waiteth, waiteth, waiteth; But the door is fast:
Grieved, away thy Saviour goeth; Death breaks in at last.
3 Then 'tis time to stand entreating Christ to let thee in;
At the gate of heaven beating,
Nay, alas! thou guilty creature,
Jesus waited long to know thee,

218

219

Wailing for thy sin !
Hast thou then forgot?
Now He knows thee not!

Only Jesus Heels and Knows.

"Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.”—Isa. liii. 4. Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 218.

Oh, that Name we love to hear, Name above all others dear ;
How it calms our every fear! Blessed, blessed Jesus!

2 Only Jesus looks within,

Sees our hearts and all our sin ;
Only He can make us clean;
Blessed, blessed Jesus!

3 Only Jesus answers prayer,
Lighter makes the cross we bear,
Bids us cast on Him our care;
Blessed, blessed Jesus!

4 Safe in Him our souls abide,

Safe His hand our steps will guide,
Till we sing beyond the tide-
Blessed, blessed Jesus.

Gethsemane.

"My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death."-MATT. xxvi. 38.
Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 219.

"TIS midnight; and on Olive's brow

The star is dimmed that lately shone;

"Tis midnight; in the garden now
The suffering Saviour prays alone

220

2 'Tis midnight; and from all removed,

The Saviour wrestles 'lone with fears;
E'en that disciple whom He loved

Heeds not his Master's grief and tears.
3 'Tis midnight; and for others' guilt

The Man of Sorrows weeps in blood;
Yet He, who hath in anguish knelt,
Is not forsaken by His God.
4 'Tis midnight; and from ether-plains
Is borne the song that angels know;
Unheard by mortals are the strains

That sweetly soothe the Saviour's woe.

'Turn ye! turn ye!-for why will ye die?"-EZEK. xxxiii. 11.
Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 220.

H, turn ye! oh, turn ye! for why will ye die,
When God in great mercy is coming so nigh?
Now Jesus invites you, the Spirit says "Come,"
And angels are waiting to welcome you home.

2 How vain the delusion, that, while you delay,
Your hearts may grow better, your chains melt away;
Come guilty, come wretched, come just as you are,
All helpless and dying, to Jesus repair.

3 The contrite in heart He will freely receive,

221

Oh, why will you not the glad message believe?

If sin be your burden, why will you not come?

'Tis you He makes welcome; He bids you come home.

My High Gower.

"The Lord is my Rock, and my Fortress, . . . . and my high Tower."-Ps. xviii. 2.

Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 221.

N Zion's Rock abiding,

IN

My soul her triumph sings;

In His pavilion hiding,

I praise the King of kings.

My High Tower is He! To Him will I flee;

In Him confide, in Him abide; My High Tower is He!

222

223

2 Wild waves are round me swelling,
Dark clouds above I see;
Yet, in my Fortress dwelling,
More safe I cannot be.

3 My Tower of strength can never
In time of trouble fail:

No power of hell for ever
Against it shall prevail.

The Church and the Kingdom.

"Lord, I have loved the habitation of Thy house."Ps. xxvi. 8. Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 222.

I

LOVE Thy kingdom, Lord,

The house of Thine abode,

The Church our blest Redeemer saved
With His own precious blood.

2 I love thy Church, O God!

Her walls before Thee stand,
Dear as the apple of Thine eye,
And graven on Thy hand.

3 For her my tears shall fall,
For her my prayers ascend;

To her my cares and toils be given,
Till toils and cares shall end.

4 Beyond my highest joy

I prize her heavenly ways,

Her sweet communion, solemn vows,
Her hymns of love and praise.

5 Sure as Thy truth shall last,

To Zion shall be given

The brightest glories earth can yield,
And brighter bliss of heaven.

Mercy and Pardon.

"Mercy and truth are met together."-Ps. lxxxv. 10.
Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 223.
WHILE life prolongs its precious light,

Mercy is found, and peace is given;

But soon, ah soon, approaching night
Shall blot out every hope of heaven.