4 I suffer on my three-score years,
  Till my Deliverer come,
And wipes away his servant’s tears,
  And takes his exile home.

     Charles Wesley, 1759.

495 China.  C.M.

Mourning with Hope. (1066)

Why should our tears in sorrow flow
  When God recalls his own,
And bids them leave a world of woe,
  For an immortal crown?

2 Is not e’en death a gain to those
  Whose life to God was given? 
Gladly to earth their eyes they close
  To open them in heaven.

3 Their toils are past, their work is done,
  And they are fully blest! 
They fought the fight, the victory won,
  And entered into rest.

4 Then let our sorrows cease to flow,—­
  God has recalled his own;
But let our hearts, in every woe,
  Still say, “Thy will be done!”

     Wm. H. Bathurst, 1829.

496 Frederick. 11s.

Death Not Fearful.

I would not live alway; I ask not to stay
Where storm after storm rises dark o’er the way;
The few cloudy mornings that dawn on us here
Are enough for life’s woes, full enough for its cheer.

2 I would not live alway; no, welcome the tomb!  Since Jesus has lain there, I dread not its gloom; There sweet be my rest till he bid me arise, To hail him in triumph descending the skies.

3 Who, who would live alway, away from his God, Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode, Where the rivers of pleasure flow o’er the bright plains, And the noontide of glory eternally reigns;

4 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, Their Savior and brethren transported to greet; While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul?

     W.A.  Muhlenburg.

497 Thy Will Be Done.  Chant

Mark 14:36.

“Thy will be | done!” || In devious way
The hurrying stream of | life may | run; ||
Yet still our grateful hearts shall say, |
“Thy will be | done.”

2 “Thy will be | done!” || If o’er us shine
A gladdening and a | prosperous | sun, ||
This prayer will make it more divine-- |
“Thy will be | done!”

3 “Thy will be | done!” || Tho’ shrouded o’er
Our | path with | gloom, | one comfort, one ||
Is ours:--to breathe, while we adore, |
“Thy will be | done.”

     Sir.  J. Bowring, 1825.

498 Shining Shore. 8s & 7s.  Trochaic.

On Jordan’s Strand. (1146)

My days are gliding swiftly by,
  And I a pilgrim stranger,
Would not detain them as they fly,
  Those hours of toil and danger.

Cho.—­For, oh! we stand on Jordan’s strand,
        Our friends are passing over;
      And, just before, the shining shore
        We may almost discover.

2 We’ll gird our loins, my brethren dear! 
  Our heav’nly home discerning;
Our absent Lord has left us word,—­
  “Let ev’ry lamp be burning.”