3 I ask them whence their victory came; They, with united breath,

Ascribe their conquest to the Lamb,
Their triumph to his death.

4 They marked the footsteps that he trod,
His zeal inspired their breast,
And, following their incarnate God,
Possess the promised rest.

5 Our glorious Leader claims our praise,
For his own pattern given,

While the long crowd of witnesses
Show the same path to heaven.

296.

HASTENING HOMEWARD.

Tallis-Gloucester-Northampton.

1 My soul, amid this stormy world, Is like some fluttered dove;

And fain would be as swift of wing,

To flee to Him I love.

C. M.

2 The cords that bound my heart to earth Were broken by his hand; Before his cross I found myself

A stranger in the land.

3 That visage marred, those sorrows deep, The vinegar, the gall,

These were his golden chains of love
His captive to enthral.

4 My heart is with him on the throne,
And ill can brook delay;

Each moment listening for the voice,
"Rise up, and come away."

5 With hope deferred, oft sick and faint, "Why tarries he?" I cry:

And should he gently chide my haste,
Thus would my heart reply:

6 "May not an exile, Lord, desire
His own sweet land to see?

May not a captive seek release,
A prisoner to be free?

7 A child, when far away, may long
For home and kindred dear;

And she that waits her absent Lord
Must sigh till he appear.

8 I would, my Lord and Saviour, know
That which no measure knows;
Would search the mystery of thy love,
The depth of all thy woes.

9 I fain would strike my golden harp Before the Father's throne,

There cast my crown of righteousness,
And sing what grace hath done.
10 Ah leave me not in this dark world,
A stranger still to roam,

Come, Lord, and take me to thyself,
Come, Jesus, quickly come.'

297.

THY LAND, O IMMANUEL.
Kenilworth.

1 I long to behold him arrayed
With glory and light from above,
The King in his beauty displayed,
His beauty of holiest love:

I languish and sigh to be there,

Where Jesus hath fixed his abode:
O when shall we meet in the air,
And fly to the mountain of God!
2 With him I on Sion shall stand,

(For Jesus hath spoken the word,)
The breadth of Immanuel's land
Survey by the light of my Lord;
But when, on thy bosom reclined,
Thy face I am strengthened to see,
My fulness of rapture I find,

My heaven of heavens, in thee.

3 How happy the people that dwell Secure in the city above!

No pain the inhabitants feel,

No sickness or sorrow shall prove. Physician of souls, unto me Forgiveness and holiness give; And then from the body set free,

And then to the city receive!

88.

298.

THE GLORIOUS HOPE.
Grosvenor-Adoration-Whitefield.

8.8.6.

1 Come on, my partners in distress,
My comrades through the wilderness,
Who still your bodies feel;

A while forget your griefs and fears,
And look beyond this vale of tears,
To that celestial hill.

2 Beyond the bounds of time and space,
Look forward to that heavenly place,
The saints' secure abode;

On faith's strong eagle-pinions rise,
And force your passage to the skies,
And scale the mount of God.

3 Who suffer with our Master here,
We shall before his face appear,
And by his side sit down:
To patient faith the prize is sure;
And all that to the end endure

The cross, shall wear the crown.
4 Thrice blessed, bliss-inspiring hope!
It lifts the fainting spirits up;
It brings to life the dead:

Our conflicts here shall soon be past,
And you and I ascend at last,

Triumphant with our Head.

5 That great mysterious Deity

We soon with open face shall see;
The beatific sight

Shall fill heaven's sounding courts with
praise,

And wide diffuse the golden blaze
Of everlasting light.

6 The Father shining on his throne,
The glorious co-eternal Son,

The Spirit, one and seven,
Conspire our rapture to complete;
And, lo! we fall before his feet,
And silence heightens heaven.

7 In hope of that ecstatic pause,
Jesus, we now sustain the cross,
And at thy footstool fall;
Till thou our hidden life reveal,
Till thou our ravish'd spirits fill,
And God is all in all!

299.

TRIUMPH OVER DEATH IN HOPE
OF THE RESURRECTION.

Wirksworth-St. Bride's-Ipswich.

1 And must this body die,
This mortal frame decay!

And must these active limbs of mine
Lie mouldering in the clay?

S. M.