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43

2 Sowing the seed by the wayside high,
Sowing the seed on the rocks to die;
Sowing the seed where the thorns will spoil,
Sowing the seed in the fertile soil :
Oh, what will the harvest be?

3 Sowing the seed of a lingering pain,
Sowing the seed of a maddened brain,
Sowing the seed of a tarnished name,
Sowing the seed of eternal shame :
Oh, what shall the harvest be?

4 Sowing the seed with an aching heart,
Sowing the seed while the tear-drops start,
Sowing in hope till the reapers come

Gladly to gather the harvest home:
Oh, what shall the harvest be?

The Ninety and Niue.

**Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep which was lost."-LUKE xv. 6.

Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 43.

'HERE were ninety and nine that safely lay

THER

In the shelter of the fold;

But one was out on the hills

away,

Far off from the gates of gold,

Away on the mountains wild and bare,
Away from the tender Shepherd's care.

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2 Lord, Thou hast here Thy ninety and nine,
Are they not enough for Thee?"

But the Shepherd made answer: "This of Mine

Has wandered away from Me;

And although the road be rough and steep,

I go to the desert to find My sheep."

3 But none of the ransomed ever knew

How deep were the waters crossed;

Nor how dark was the night that the Lord passed through

Ere He found His sheep that was lost.

Out in the desert He heard its cry,

Sick, and helpless, and ready to die.

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4 "Lord, whence are those blood-drops all the way, That mark out the mountain's track?"

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They were shed for one who had gone astray

Ere the Shepherd could bring him back."

Lord, whence are Thy hands so rent and torn?"
They are pierced to-night by many a thorn."
5 And all through the mountains, thunder-riven,
And up from the rocky steep,

There rose a cry to the gate of heaven,
"Rejoice! I have found My sheep!"
And the angels echoed around the throne,
Rejoice, for the Lord brings back His own!"

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"He was wounded for our transgressions."-ISAIAH liii. 5. Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 44.

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CHRIST, what burdens bowed Thy head!
Our load was laid on Thee;

Thou stoodést in the sinner's stead,
Didst bear all ill for me.

A Victim led, Thy blood was shed;
Now there's no load for me.

2 Death and the curse were in our cup:
O Christ, 'twas full for Thee!

But Thou hast drained the last dark drop,
'Tis empty now for me:

That bitter cup, love drank it up,

Now blessing's draught for me.

3 Jehovah lifted up his rod;

O Christ, it fell on Thee!

Thou wast sore stricken of Thy God;
There's not one stroke for me.
Thy tears, Thy blood, beneath it flowed;
Thy bruising healeth me.

4 The tempest's awful voice was heard ;
O Christ, it broke on Thee!

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Thy open bosom was my ward
Ít braved the storm for me.

Thy form was scarred, Thy visage marred;
Now cloudless peace for me.

5 Jehovah bade His sword awake,
O Christ, it woke 'gainst Thee;
Thy blood the flaming blade must slake,
Thy heart its sheath must be;
All for my sake, my peace to make :
Now sleeps that sword for me.

6 For me, Lord Jesus, Thou hast died,
And I have died in Thee:

Thou'rt risen-my bands are all untied;
And now Thou liv'st in me:
When purified, made white, and tried,
Thy GLORY then for me.

There is a Komutain.

"A fountain opened for sin."-ZECH. xiii. 1.
Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 45.

THER

HERE is a fountain filled with blood,
Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains.

2 The dying thief rejoiced to see
That fountain in his day;

And there may I, though vile as he,
Wash all my sins away.

3 E'er since by faith I saw the stream
Thy flowing wounds supply,
Redeeming love has been my theme,
And shall be till I die.

4 Then in a nobler, sweeter song
I'll sing Thy power to save,

When this poor, lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave.

46

47

The Home over There.

"Oh that I had wings like a dove, for then would I fly away and be at

rest."-PSALM lv. 6.

Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 46.

OH, think of the home over there

By the side of the river of light,

Where the saints all immortal and fair
Are robed in their garments of white.
Over there, over there,

Oh, think of the home over there.

2 Oh, think of the friends over there,
Who before us the journey have trod;
Of the songs that they breathe on the air,
In their home in the palace of God.

Over there, over there,

Oh, think of the friends over there.

3 My Saviour is now over there,

There my kindred and friends are at rest;
Then, away from my sorrow and care,
Let me fly to the land of the blest.

Over there, over there,

My Saviour is now over there.

4 I'll soon be at home over there,
For the end of my journey I see;
Many dear to my heart over there
Are watching and waiting for me.

Over there, over there,

I'll soon be at home over there.

Oh, Sing of His Mighty Love.

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'Mighty to save."-ISAIAH lxiii. 1.

Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 47.

OH, bliss of the purified! bliss of the free!

I plunge in the crimson tide opened for me;

O'er sin and uncleanness exulting I stand,
And point to the print of the nails in His hand.

Oh, sing of His mighty love, Sing of His mighty love,
Sing of His mighty love, Mighty to save.

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2 Oh, bliss of the purified! Jesus is mine!
No longer in dread condemnation I pine;
In conscious salvation I sing of His grace,
Who lifted upon me the light of His face.

3 Oh, bliss of the purified! bliss of the pure!

No wound hath the soul that His blood cannot cure!
No sorrow-bowed head but may sweetly find rest;
No tears-but may dry them on Jesus' breast.

4 O Jesus the crucified! Thee will I sing,

My blessed Redeemer, my God, and my King;
My soul, filled with rapture, shall shout o'er the grave,
And triumph in death in the "Mighty to Save.”

Sweet Hour of Prayer.

"Evening, and morning, and at noon will I pray."-PSALM lv. 17.
Tune-Sacred Songs and Solos, No. 48.

SW

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.

2 Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
Thy wings shall my petition bear
To Him whose truth and faithfulness
Engage the waiting soul to bless :
And since He bids me seek His face,
Believe His word, and trust His grace,
I'll cast on Him my every care,

And wait for thee, sweet hour of prayer!

3 Sweet hour of prayer! sweet hour of prayer!
May I thy consolation share,

Till, from Mount Pisgah's lofty height,
I view my home and take my flight.

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