144 Lift Your Voices, Watchmen. JAMES S. WELLS. MISSIONARY HYMN. JNO. R. SWENEY, cy The 1. We love the grand old story Of him, our Lord and King, Who came in tender mer gift of life to bring; We love the grand old sto ry: Our hearts with rapture swell Whenbrought us to the fold; But oh, we now are yearn- ing For those a-cross the wave Who 'ry heathen land; Go, plant the royal standard On each benight- ed shore, Till ev Lift Your Voices, Watchmen.-CONCLUDED. 145 trumpet tongue proclaim, O'er land and sea, Redemption free Thro' Christ the Saviour's name. FANNY J. CROSBY. 8 Close, Close to Thee. WM. J. KIRKPATRICK 1. Bow down thine ear and hear my call, Thou gracious Lord, my life, my all; 2. One word of love, one smile of thine, Would sweetly calm this heart of mine; To thy dear cross 3 By tempest tossed, by care oppressed, I come to thee, my ark of rest; My weary wings at peace would be: Draw me, oh, draw me close, close to thee! 4 Thou Rock, where waves can never break, Whose mighty power no storm can shake, Be thou my trust on life's dark sea: Draw me, oh, draw me close, close to thee! 146 Mrs. E. C. Ellsworth. Shout the Victory. T. H. ERVIN. 1. The war cry is sounding! I hear it a- far,-And girding my ar- mor prepare for the war; 2. My foes once more gather, but heavy with sleep, And weary with watching, no vig- il I keep; 3. The darts fly-ing thickly are wounding me sore, The foe- men are pressing behind and be- fore; b-2 The foe shows an arm-y in battle ar-ray, While I, sin-gle-hand -ed, engage in the fray. I trem-ble with fear, So feebly resisting the en My shield, soiled and broken, no more can defend; A cry for e- my near. a helper t'ward heaven I send. Shout the Victory.—CONCLUDED. turn and see my Saviour's face, And shout the victo- ry! Shout the vic-to-ry! Shout the victo WM. J. KIRKPATRICK 148 FANNY J. CROSBY. Over the Jasper Sea. JNO. R. SWENEY. 1. O beau-ti-ful city of God above, The city to which I go, There sweet are the songs of re2. There's light in that city, the light of day, Unclouded, and pure, and fair; No evening o'ermantles its 3. They rest in that ci- ty who labored here, For labor and toil are o'er; There griefs are forgotten and 4. They dwell in that city with Christ the Lord,Their crowns at his feet they cast,And oh, they are reaping a p. cometh this joy to me: Not here is my treasure, not here my home, But over the Jas- per Sea. 8: |