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There dwells the Lord our King,

The Lord our Righteousness, Triumphant o'er the world and sin,

The Prince of Peace;

On Sion's sacred height,

His kingdom still maintains;
And glorious with his saints in light

For ever reigns.
He keeps his own secure,

He guards them by his side,
Arrays in garments white and pure

His spotless Bride.



N! towards Zion, on!

Glory awaits you there; Crowns, for the victor's brow; Robes, that the conquerors wear ; Thrones, for the sons of might; Harps, for the sons of song ; Welcomes, from heaven's own King, Greetings, from heaven's bright throng.

On! for ye now must wage
The warfare, life begun!
Or see life's day decline,
With life's great work undone.
Hark! for your Captain calls,
And o'er your path has shone
His lightning-gleaming sword :
On! to the fight, then, on!

Put off each cumbrous weight,
Renounce each darling sin;
He must be free as air,
Who would faith's victory win.
With patience gird the soul,
Maintain the strife begun;
Be firm unto the end :
On! to the foe, then, on!
Be fearless in the fight.
Look round you-myriads stand
Enrobed in glorious light,
Earth's star-crown'd victor band.
They point you to the prize,
By true hearts surely won;
They urge you to advance :
On! to the field, then, on!
See! Christ among them throned;
He, who the crown of shame
Wore on that royal head
Now wreath'd with endless fame:
He waits to bind a crown,
Life's last great battle won,
Round every conqueror's brow:
On! then, to victory, on!

OLDIER, go ! but not to claim

Mouldering spoils of earth-bound treasure; Not to build a vaunting name,

Not to dwell in halls of pleasure ;
Thou hast sterner work to do,
Hosts to cut thy passage through.


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Soldier, rest! but not for thee

Spreads the world her downy pillow;
On the rock thy couch must be,

While around thee chafes the billow :
Sleep, as on the battle-field,
Girded, grasping sword and shield.
Soldier, rise! the war is done;

Lo, the hosts of hell are flying; 'Twas thy Lord the battle won;

Jesus vanquish'd them by dying. Christian, lay thy weapons down, Quit the sword, and take the crown.

70 FAI VAIN would my thoughts fly up to thee,

Thy peace, sweet Lord, to find; But when I offer, still the world

Lays clogs upon my mind.
Sometimes I climb a little way,

And thence look down below;
How nothing then do all things seem,

That here make such a show!
Then round about I turn my eyes,

To feast my hungry sight;
I meet with heaven in everything,

In everything delight.
I see Thy wisdom ruling all,

And it with joy admire;
I see myself among such hopes

As set my heart on fire.


When I have thus triumph'd awhile,

And think to build my nest,
Some cross conceit comes fluttering by,

And interrupts my rest.
Then to the earth again I fall,

And from my low dust cry, "'Twas not in my wing, Lord, but Thine,

That I got up so high."
And now, my God, whether I rise,

Or still lie down in dust,
Both I submit to thy blest will,

In both on Thee I trust.
Guide Thou my way, who art Thyself

My everlasting end,
That every step, or swift or slow,

Still to Thyself may tend.

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71 I I

WOULD, but cannot sing, ,

Guilt has untuned my voice,
The serpent's sin-envenom'd sting

Has poison'd all my joys.
I know the Lord is nigh,

And would, but cannot pray ;
For Satan meets me when I try,

And frights my soul away.
I would, but can't repent,

Though I endeavour oft ;
This stony heart can ne'er relent,

Till Jesus makes it soft.

I would, but cannot love,

Though woo'd by love divine;
No arguments have power to move

A soul so base as mine.
I would, but cannot rest

In God's most holy will ;
I know what He appoints is best,

Yet murmur at it still.
O could I but believe !

Then all would easy be ;
I would, but cannot-Lord, relieve;

My help must come from thee!
But if indeed I would,

Though I can nothing do;
Yet the desire is something good,

For which my praise is due.
By nature prone to ill,

'Till thine appointed hour I was as destitute of will,

As now I am of power.
Wilt thou not crown at length,

The work thou hast begun ?
And with a will, afford me strength,

In all thy ways to run ?



In faith, and love, and every grace; Might more of his salvation know, And seek more earnestly his face.

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