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2 Wake in our breast the living fires,
The holy faith that warmed our sires;
To die for her is serving Thee.
The midnight snare, the silent foe;
Still guide us in its moving cloud.
In Thy dread Name we draw the sword,
That fills with light our stormy sky.
Guard Thou its folds till peace shall reign,
Oliver Wendell HOLMES
4 And here Thy name, O God of love,
Their children's children shall adore,
splendor thro' the skies, Our grateful songs be-fore Thy throne a - rise. A-men.
4 Refresh Thy people on their toilsome way,
Daniei. C ROBERTS
The val-leys stand so thick with corn That e-ven they are sing - ing. A-men
2 And now on this our festal day,
Thy bounteous hand confessing, Upon Thine altar, Lord, we lay
The first-fruits of Thy blessing.
With gifts of grace supernal,
May we, the angel-reaping o'er,
Stand at the last accepted, Christ's golden sheaves for evermore
To garners bright elected.
3 We bear the burden of the day,
And often toil seems dreary; But labor ends with sunset ray,
And rest is for the weary.
4 Oh, blessèd is that land of God,
Where saints abide forever;
Where flows the crystal river:
With ours to-day are blending;
WILLIAM C. Dix
545 ST. GEORGE'S, WINDSOR 78. D.
GEORGE J. Elver
(d=100) Come, ye thank-ful peo - ple, come, Raise the song of har - vest - home:
4 Even so, Lord, quickly come,
To Thy final harvest-home!