3 voice that

3

the

Jesus sends, To call them to his arms.

3

2 Are we not tending upward too,
As fast as time can move?
Why should we wish the hours more
That bear us to our God?

14 The graves of all the saints he And softened every bed: [blessed, Where should the dying members [slow, But with the dying head? [rest,

Why do we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?
Twas there the Saviour's body lay,
And left a long perfume.

5 Then let the last loud trumpet
And bid our kindred rise; [sound,
Awake, ye nations under ground;
Ye saints, ascend the skies.

low, Home to the land of bright spirits I go, Pilgrim and stran

ear! Harps of the bless- ed, your voices I hear! Rings with the har

ger no more shall I roam; Joyful- ly, joy-ful -ly resting at home.

mony heaven's high dome, Joy-ful- ly, joyfully haste to thy home.

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

The Christian Victor.

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 passed through below;
Many the seasons of trial and woe;
Many the doubtings it ever should sing
Victory! victory! thus on the wing.

There is 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, oh welcome, to our happy shore;
Victory! victory! watch ye no more.

3 How can we wish them released from their home
Longer in sorrowing exile to roam?

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

There 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 has come!

oud her lovely sonnet sings. Vain world adieu, Vain world adieu, And

'oud her love-ly sonnet sings; Vain world a

dieu.

2. His crimes, with in -ward grief and shame, The