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On! ask ye why, with staff in hand
And pilgrim scrip I travel on?
Why in a strange and foreign land
I walk with speed, and must be gone?
Oh! did ye know that world so fair,
Where all my hope, my treasure lies;
Knew ye the many waiting there
To bid me welcome to the skies;
No more to tread, with pilgrim feet,
A land of strangers and of storm;
I shall a kind associate meet,
A friend in every angel form;—
Knew ye the beauty of His face,
Whose eye is life, whose smile is love;-
Knew ye the glories of the place
Where Jesus reigns enthroned above;—
Knew ye the strong, the living power
That links His people's hearts to His:
Ye, too, would hasten on the hour
When we shall see Him as He is.
Ye would not ask, Why haste ye so?
With Christ and glory still in view,
But ye would turn from all below,
And press to take possession too.


THERE'S nought on earth to rest upon, all things are changing here,
The smiles of joy we gaze upon, the friends we count most dear;
One Friend alone is changeless-the One too oft forgot,
Whose love has stood for ages past-our Jesus changeth not.

The sweetest flower on earth that shed its fragrance round,
Ere evening comes, has withered, and lies upon the ground;
The dark and dreary desert has only one green spot,
"Tis found in living pastures, with Him who changeth not.

And clouds o'ercast our summer sky, so beautiful, so bright,
And while we still admire it, it darkens into night;
One sky alone is cloudless, there darkness enters not,
'Tis found alone with Jesus,-and Jesus changeth not.

And friendship's smile avails not to cheer us here below,
For smiles are all deceitful, they quickly ebb and flow;
One smile alone can gladden, whate'er the pilgrim's lot,
It is the smile of Jesus,-for Jesus changeth not.

And thus our bark moves onward o'er life's tempestuous sea, While death's unerring hand is stamped on everything we see; But faith has found a living One, where hope deceiveth not: Our life is hid with Jesus,-and Jesus changeth not.

There's nought on earth to rest upon, all things are changing here,
The smiles of joy we gaze upon, the friends we count most dear;
One Friend alone is changeless-the One too oft forgot,
Whose love has stood for ages past-our Jesus changeth not.


Он, wild, traditioned Scotland!
Thy briery burns and braes
Are full of pleasant memories
And tales of other days;
Thy story-haunted waters
In music gush along,

Thy mountain glens are tragedies,
Thy heathy hills are song.

Land of the Bruce and Wallace!
Where patriot hearts have stood;
And for their country and their faith
Like water poured their blood;
Where wives and little children
Were steadfast to the death,
And graves of martyr warriors
Are in the desert heath.


WITH harps and songs of praise abounding, The saints, their glorious theme resounding, (Of every tongue and name,)

Sing, "Blessing, wisdom, honour, power,
Salvation, glory," evermore,

To God and to the Lamb!

The Patriarchs

sang of Jesus' name;

Emmanuel their harps proclaim,

As round His glories shine!
Of Him the Prophets sweetly sung,
Their harps to Him the Apostles strung,
And saints in concert join.

Him Abraham sang, the covenant heir,
Him whom the Father did not spare,
But offered for them all;
Rejoicing in His sacrifice,
And righteousness that justifies

The Church from guilt and thrall.

Melchisedec of Him did sing,
His offices of priest and king,
Eternal and divine!

The King of peace and righteousness!
The Priest that doth His people bless
With heavenly bread and wine!

Him Isaac sang, the seed expressed,
In whom the nations should be blessed,
And be from bondage freed;

The Lamb, Jehovah did provide,

On Calvary's mount that bled and died

For all the chosen seed.

Him Jacob sang, the Morning Star,
His glories beaming from afar,

Bright harbinger of day!

The Sceptre that from Israel rose,

To rule His friends and smite His foes,

And His dominion sway.

With songs did Judah praise ascribe,
To Him the Lion of His tribe,

Whose Kingdom shall advance;
The sceptre broke from Judah's lands,
He Shiloh sang, whose mighty hands
Shall gather all His saints.

The song of Moses Him declares,
That Prophet whom the Church reveres:
The Saviour's praise he spreads,

As he His unveiled glories saw,
The end of Sinai's broken law

And ceremonial shades.

Him Joshua sang in martial song,
The Lord of Hosts, in battle strong,
The mighty God confessed!

The Captain of Salvation He,

Who leads the saints to victory

And heavenly Canaan's rest.

Him Barak sang, when, marching high,
He captive led captivity,

From Canaan's field of blood;

Where, great in might, the Conqueror rose, Trod down the strength of all His foes,

And Israel's Saviour stood!

Him Gideon sang, in conquering strains,
The Angel of deliverance,

Omnipotent to save!

To Him, the shield of his defence,
And sword of Israel's excellence,

His song the glory gave.

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