131. God of my Life. 1 GOD of my life, look gently down, But I am dumb before thy throne, 2 Diseases are thy servants, Lord, 3 Yet I may plead, with humble cries, Remove thy sharp rebukes : My strength consumes, my spirit dies, Through thy repeated strokes. 4 Crush'd as a moth beneath thy hand, We moulder to the dust; Our feeble powers can ne'er withstand 5 I'm but a stranger here below, 6 And if my life be spared awhile, Thy praise shall be my business still, 132. Soldiers of the Cross. Written for the Lyre. 1 SOLDIERS of the cross, arise! Lo! your leader from the skies Waves before you glory's prize, The prize of victory. Seize your armor-gird it on ; The battle's yours, it will be won; Though fierce the strife 'twill soon be done; Then struggle manfully. 2 Jesus conquer'd when he fell, Met and vanquish'd earth and hell; Now he leads you on, to swell The triumphs of his cross. Though all earth and hell appear, Who will doubt or who can fear? "God our strength and shield" is near; We cannot lose our cause. 3 Onward, then, ye hosts of God! Jesus points the victor's rod; Follow where your Leader trod; You soon shall see his face. Soon, your enemies all slain, The crown of glory you shall gain; And walk among that glorious train, Who shout their Savior's Christian Warrior. Written for the Lyre. Bless Messiah's name. Satan's bondmen once ye were, Willing captives in his snare, Till with mighty arm made bare, Christ your rescue came. 2 Now the fight of faith begin; Be no more the slaves of sin; Strive the victor's palm to win, Trusting in the Lord. Gird ye on the armor bright, Your divine reward. 3 Fear not, though a feeble band, Marching through a hostile land; Guided by a mighty hand, Ye shall win the day. Faithful to your banner be, Ever fighting manfully; Laurels shall be won by thee, Fading not away. 4 Sinners,long estranged from God, Give to Christ the glory due, Peace have never known. W. M. 192 NINEVEH 5.6. b8 The day is far spent, The evening is care, But, oh! for the summons Our spirit pre 133. The Day is sport. 1 THE day is far spent, The evening is nigh, Our dust to thy care, 2 The hours that remain, Of death, be our guide; Through life's weary journey, Thou still hast been near And in our last moments, Lord, for us appear. 3 We die to obtain A seat with the blest, 4 Though rayless the night, And death on our eyes; 5 0, day long foretold! When wilt thou appear? 134. A Brother is dead. 1 HARK! what is that note, A brother is dead. 2 Yes, gone to the grave 3 But marble and urns! That surrounded his bed, 4 O say, have ye heard, In the heavenly throng, Of our God, have ye led 5 No voice from the grave, |