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67. The Christian Soldier.
And put your armour on;
Through his eternal Son;
And in his mighty power;
Is more than conqueror.
With all his strength endued ;
That having all things done,
And stand complete at last.
To God with faith draw near;
With all the power of prayer:
Nor from his altar move;
And ev'ry heart his love.
From strength to strength go on,
Wrestle, and fight, and pray;
And win the well-fought day:
In all his soldiers, "Come;".
And take the conqu’rors home.
68. A Funeral Hymn for a Believer.
NEW JERUSALEM. HOSANNA to Jesus on high!
Another has enter'd his rest; Another is 'scap'd to the sky,
And lodg'd in Immanuel's breast : The soul of our brother is
gone To heighten the triumph above; Exalted to Jesus's throne,
And clasp'd in the arms of his love.
Transported at Jesus's name!
To share in the feast of the Lamb!
Who next from his dungeon shall fly? Who first shall be summon'd away?
My merciful God-Is it I?.
O Jesus! if this be thy will,
That suddenly I should depart; Thy counsel of mercy reveal,
And whisper the call to my heart: O give me a signal to know,
If soon thou would'st have me remove; And leave the dull body below,
And fly to the regions of love.
69. Christ the Believer’s Refuge.
IN every trouble sharp and strong,
My soul to Jesus flies;
When swelling billows rise.
His comforts bear my spirits up,
I trust a faithful God;
Is in a Saviour's blood.
Loud hallelujahs sing, my soul,
To thy Redeemer's name;
His love is still the same.
70. A Prospect of Heaven makes
Death easy. PROSPECT. THERE is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign; Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain. There everlasting spring abides,
And never-with’ring flowers :
This heavenly land from ours.
Stand dress'd in living green:
While Jordan roll'd between.
To cross this narrow sea;
Afraid to launch away.
Those gloomy doubts that rise!
With unbeclouded eyes!
And view the landscape o'er;
Should fright us from the shore.
171. Christ precious to a Believer.
MISSIONARY. JESUS, I love thy charming name,
'Tis music to my ear; Fain would I sound it out so loud,
That earth and heaven might hear. Yes, thou art precious to my soul,
My transport, and my trust;
And gold is sordid dust.
In thee most richly meet;
Nor friendship half so sweet.
And shed its fragrance there;
The cordial of its care.
With my last lab'ring breath;
My joy in life and death. 72. A Divine Rapture. FarringDON. FROM thee, my God, my joys shall rise,
And run eternal rounds; Beyond the limits of the skies,
And all created bounds.