3. Death, with thy weapons of war lay me low;
Strike, King of terrors-I fear not the blow;
Jesus hath broken the bars of the tomb:
Joyfully, joyfully will I go home.
Bright will the morn of eternity dawn;
Death shall be banish'd-his sceptre be gone;
Joyfully then shall I witness his doom-
Joyfully, joyfully-safely at home.

THE CHRISTIAN VICTOR.

[Adapted to the preceding tune.]

1 Happy the spirit released from its clay;
Happy the soul that goes bounding away-
Singing, as upward it hastes to the skies,
"Victory! victory!-homeward. I rise."
Many the toils it has pass'd through below,
Many the seasons of trial and woe;

Many the doubtings-it never should sing
Victory! victory!" thus on the wing.

66

2. There lies the wearisome body at rest; Closed are its eyelids, and quiet its breast; But the glad spirit, on pinions of light,

Victory! victory!" sings in its flight.

While we are weeping our friends gone from earth,
Angels are singing their heavenly birth-
"Welcome, O welcome to our happy shore;
Victory! victory!-weep ye no more."

3. How can we wish them recall'd from their home, Longer in sorrowing exile to roam?

Safely they pass'd from their troubles beneath,
Victory! victory!" shouting in death.

Thus let them slumber, till Christ from the skies,
Bids them in glorified bodies arise-

Singing, as upward they spring from the tomb
"Victory! victory!-Jesus hath come!"

OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT.

1. Oft in the stil-ly night, Ere slumber's chain hath remember all The friends so link'd to

2. While I

early years, The vows to Heaven then spoken; Those left alone My Saviour I de serted; My

youthful hopes, now dimm'd and gone,Those sacred vows now hopes are fled-my comforts dead--And Mer-cy hath de

ALL IS WELL. 10, 3, 8.

C. DINGLEY.

Newly arranged by the Author.

1. What's this that steals, that steals upon my 2. Weep not, my friends, my friends, weep not for

That soon will quench, will quench this vi - tal My sins are par - don'd, par-don'd; I am

There's not a cloud that doth a rise, To

every pain and sor-row free-I shall the King hide my Saviour from my eyes-I soon shall mount

of glo-ry see!

4

All

is well,-All is well. the up-per skies! All is well,-All is well.

3.

Tune, tune your harps-your harps, ye saints in glory!
All is well,-All is well:

I will rehearse-rehearse the pleasing story;
All is well,-All is well:

Bright angels are from glory cone;

They 're round my bed-they're in my room-
They wait to waft my spirit home!

All is well,-All is well.