 | "My Country 'tis of Thee," and the Latest Poems by the Rev. Samuel Francis Smith |  |
21
Hymn.
Tune, “Duke Street.”
As ocean with majestic roar
Rolls its white billows to the shore,
Our praise, Lord, like the sounding sea,
Shall break in ceaseless waves to Thee.
Rolls its white billows to the shore,
Our praise, Lord, like the sounding sea,
Shall break in ceaseless waves to Thee.
The rippling stream, the whispering leaves,
The gorgeous forms which sunset weaves,
The thunder's crash, the lightning's flame,
Thy presence and Thy power proclaim.
The gorgeous forms which sunset weaves,
The thunder's crash, the lightning's flame,
Thy presence and Thy power proclaim.
Each sunny ray, each sparkling star,
Glows with His wondrous name afar,
And all our throbbing pulses tell
Of Him whose love does all things well.
Glows with His wondrous name afar,
And all our throbbing pulses tell
Of Him whose love does all things well.
Just as the lark with quivering wings
Soars, and still soars, and, soaring, sings,
Breathe with each breath the Saviour's praise,
Extol His name in loftiest lays.
Soars, and still soars, and, soaring, sings,
Breathe with each breath the Saviour's praise,
Extol His name in loftiest lays.
His mercy every blessing brings,
Crown Him with glory, King of kings:
Before His throne, adoring, fall,
And crown the Saviour Lord of all.
Crown Him with glory, King of kings:
Before His throne, adoring, fall,
And crown the Saviour Lord of all.
October 15, 1894.
23
Hymn.
Tune, “Lyons.”
Extol ye Jehovah, His glory proclaim;
Our shield and defender, sing praise to His name.
His life is our life, and we lean on His arm,
His presence to life gives its holiest charm.
Our shield and defender, sing praise to His name.
His life is our life, and we lean on His arm,
His presence to life gives its holiest charm.
We find in His service our noblest employ,
To do His blest will is our aim and our joy;
No bliss like the bliss by His hand to be led,
No crown like the crown that honors His head.
To do His blest will is our aim and our joy;
No bliss like the bliss by His hand to be led,
No crown like the crown that honors His head.
We wait for His summons, we bow to His word,
Our Master, our Saviour, our Teacher, our Lord;
We love Thy dear footsteps, we walk in Thy fear,
Speak, Lord, to our hearts, and Thy servants shall hear.
Our Master, our Saviour, our Teacher, our Lord;
We love Thy dear footsteps, we walk in Thy fear,
Speak, Lord, to our hearts, and Thy servants shall hear.
Accept Thou the gift which we lay at Thy feet;
For grace we implore, for strength we entreat;
So life, be it longer or shorter, shall be
A life full of service, dear Saviour, for Thee.
For grace we implore, for strength we entreat;
So life, be it longer or shorter, shall be
A life full of service, dear Saviour, for Thee.
October 21, 1895.
24
Union Hymn.
Written for the Young Men's Baptist Social Union, September 1895, and adopted as the
Hail! happy scene of feast and song!
How sweet the minutes roll,
When heart to beating heart responds,
And soul to kindred soul.
Love rules the hour, true Christian love,
A force divinely given,
The foretaste of immortal bliss,
The antepast of heaven.
How sweet the minutes roll,
When heart to beating heart responds,
And soul to kindred soul.
Love rules the hour, true Christian love,
A force divinely given,
The foretaste of immortal bliss,
The antepast of heaven.
And who shall be our honored guest,
With grace to crown the board,
Who, sit, the Master of the feast,
Who, but our glorious Lord?
Bring near, with joy, the costly vase,
And break it,—'tis but meet,—
And pour the precious ointment forth,
To bathe His sacred feet.
With grace to crown the board,
Who, sit, the Master of the feast,
Who, but our glorious Lord?
Bring near, with joy, the costly vase,
And break it,—'tis but meet,—
And pour the precious ointment forth,
To bathe His sacred feet.
Thus the rich banquet, fitly spread,
Shall prove a feast indeed;
And living bread from His own hand
Our waiting souls shall feed;
The King of kings and Lord of lords
No royal gift shall spare,
And manna, of our earthly board,
Be changed to angels' fare.
Shall prove a feast indeed;
And living bread from His own hand
Our waiting souls shall feed;
The King of kings and Lord of lords
No royal gift shall spare,
And manna, of our earthly board,
Be changed to angels' fare.
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