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345.

God, that madest Earth and Heaven.

HEBER & WHATELY.

THOS. B. SOUTHGATE

1. God, that mad est earth and heaven, Dark - ness and 2. Guard us wak ing, guard us sleeping, And, when we

light; die,

Who the day for toil hast given, For rest the night: May Thine an-gel May we in Thy might-y keeping, All peaceful lie: When the last dread

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ger walk forth with the night; From the fall darkness, Thy love be our light; Let us sleep on

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An Evening Prayer.-Concluded.

Fa-ther, have mer - су, Fa-ther, have mer-cy thro' Je-sus Christ our Lord. A-men.

847.

Ten thousand times ten thousand.

H. ALFORD.

(ALFORD.)

J. B. DYKES.

1. Ten thousand times ten thousand, In sparkling raiment bright, The armies of the

ransomed saints Throng up the steeps of light: 'Tis finished, all is finished, Their fight with

death and sin: Fling open wide the gold - en gates, And let the victors in. Amen.

2 What rush of hallelujahs

Fills all the earth and sky! What ringing of a thousand harps Bespeaks the triumph nigh!

O day, for which creation

And all its tribes were made!

O joy, for all its former woes

A thousand-fold repaid!

3 O then what raptured greetings

On Canaan's happy shore,

What knitting severed friendships up,

Where partings are no more! Then eyes with joy shall sparkle,

That brimmed with tears of late,

Orphans no longer fatherless,

Nor widows desolate.

848.

Joyfully! Joyfully!

W. HUNTER, D.D.

Rev. A. D. MERRILL.

1. Joy-ful-ly, joy- ful-ly

onward I move, Bound for the land of bright spirits above;

Angel-ic chor - is-ters sing as I come," Joy - ful-ly, joyful-ly haste to thy home."

Soon, with my pilgrimage end-ed be-low, Home to that land of delight will I go;

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Pilgrim and stranger no more shall I roam, Joy- ful-ly, joy - ful-ly rest-ing at home.

2 Friends fondly cherished have passed on before, |3 Death, with thy weapons of war lay me low,. Waiting, they watch me approaching the shore; Singing to cheer me through death's chilling gloom,

"Joyfully, joyfully, haste to thy home."
Sounds of sweet melody fall on my ear;
Harps of the blessed, your voices I hear!
Rings with the harmony heaven's high dome!
"Joyfully, joyfully, haste to thy home."

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 banished, his sceptre be gone,
Joyfully, then shall I witness his doom;
Joyfully, joyfully, safely at home.

349.

Sweet is the Work, my God, my King.

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1. While, with ceaseless course, the sun Hasted thro' the former year, Many souls their race have run,

D. S.-We a lit-tle longer wait,

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