Son of man, they crown, they crown Him! Son of God, they own, they own Him! With His name the palace rings !

Blessing, honor, without measure,
Heavenly riches, earthly treasure,

Lay we at His blesséd feet!
Poor the praise that now we render;
Loud shall be our voices yonder,

When before His Throne we meet


THE twilight falls, the night is near,

my work away,

And kneel to One who bends to hear
The story of the day.

The old, old story; yet I kneel
To tell it at Thy call;

And cares grow lighter as I feel
That Jesus knows them all.


Yes, all! The morning and the night,
The joy, the grief, the loss,

The roughened path, the sunbeam bright,
The hourly thorn and cross.



Thou knowest all-I lean my head,
My weary eyelids close;
Content and glad awhile to tread
This path, since Jesus knows!

And He has loved me! All my heart
With answering love is stirred,
And every anguished pain and smart
Finds healing in the Word.

So here I lay me down to rest,
As nightly shadows fall,
And lean, confiding, on His breast,
Who knows and pities all!


ROPPING down the troubled river,
To the tranquil, tranquil shore;
Dropping down the misty river,
Time's willow-shaded river,

To the spring-embosomed shore;
Where the sweet light shineth ever,
And the sun goes down no more.
O wondrous, wondrous shore !

Dropping down the winding river,
To the wide and welcome sea;


Dropping down the narrow river,
Man's weary, wayward river,

To the blue and ample sea;
Where no tempest wrecketh ever
Where the sky is fair and free;
O joyous, joyous sea!

Dropping down the noisy river,

To our peaceful, peaceful home; Dropping down the turbid river, Earth's bustling, crowded river,

To our gentle, gentle home ; Where the rough roar riseth never, And the vexings cannot come; O loved and longed for home!

Dropping down the eddying rive,

With a Helmsman true and tried Dropping down the perilous river-Mortality's dark river,

With a sure and Heavenly Guide;
Even Him who, to deliver

My soul from death, hath died;
O Helmsman, true and tried!

Dropping down the rapid river,

To the dear and deathless land; Dropping down the well-known river, Life's swoll'n and rushing river.




To the resurrection-land;
Where the living, live for ever,
And the dead have joined the band,
O fair and blessed land!



OME, drink ye, drink ye, all, of it,
Pale children of a King;

No poison mingles in the draught,
So, while ye suffer, sing.

'Tis Love's own Life hath won it us,
Christ's lip hath pressed the brim,—
Come, drink ye, drink ye, all, of it,
In fellowship with Him!

O shun not thou the Loving Cup,
Nor tremble at its hue;

There is no bitter in the bowl,

But Jesus drank it, too.

He counts thy tears, and knows thy pain,
Yea, every woe is weighed;

And not a cross He bids thee bear,
But once on Him was laid.

Come, drink thou of the Loving Cup!
Thou wouldst not pass it by?

"Tis kept for every caosen one
Of God's dear family:


Nor, unbelieving, turn aside;

The Lord the cup bestows; And O His face, above thee bent, With love and pity glows!

Those hands, once bleeding on the Cross,

Are now outstretched to bless; He draws thee closer to His heart

For that draught's bitterness;
He hears thy faintly sobbing breath,
He marks each quivering limb;
He drank a cup for thee alone-
Child drink it now with Him.

Let earth bring forth her bitter herbs,
Soon all their power shall cease;
Come tribulation if it will,

With Christ's abiding Peace.
I take the cup-the Loving Cup,
Thrice blesséd shall it be;
I would not miss one gift, O Lord,
Thy Blood hath bought for me!


THOU, the contrite sinner's Friend, Who loving, lov'st them to the end, On this alone my hopes depend,


That Thou wilt plead for me!


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