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Plead-ing at Thy throne we stand, Save Thy peo-ple, bless our land.

A- men.

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550 THE HYMN TO JOY 85 & 7s.

BEETHOVEN. Arr. fr. Ninth Symphony

(d=116) Joy - ful, joy - ful, we

a - dore Thee, God of glo - ry, Lord of love;

4

Hearts un - fold like flow'rs be-fore Thee, Prais-ing Thee their Sun a - bove.

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Giv - er of im - mor-tal glad-ness, Fill us with the light of day. A-men. 551 DIX 75. 61.

2 All Thy works with joy surround Thee,

Earth and heaven reflect Thy rays, Stars and angels sing around Thee,

Centre of unbroken praise:
Field and forest, vale and mountain,

Blooming meadow, flashing sea,
Chanting bird and flowing fountain,

Call us to rejoice in Thee. 3 Thou art giving and forgiving,

Ever blessing, ever blest, Well-spring of the joy of living,

Ocean-depth of happy rest!

Thou our Father, Christ our Brother,

All who live in love are Thine:
Teach us how to love each other,

Lift us to the Joy Divine.
4 Mortals join the mighty chorus,

Which the morning stars began: Father-love is reigning o'er us,

Brother-love binds man to man. Ever singing march we onward,

Victors in the midst of strife; Joyful music lifts us sunward In the triumph song of life. Amen.

HENRY VAN DYKE

Arr. fr. CONRAD KOCHER

(d= 96) Praise to God, im - mor - tal praise, For the love that crowns our days;

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All to Thee, our God, we owe, Source whence all our bless-ings flow. A-men.

2 All the plenty summer pours,

Autumn's rich o'erflowing stores,
Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain:
Lord, for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.

3 Peace, prosperity, and health,

Private bliss, and public wealth,
Knowledge with its gladdening streams,
Pure religion's holier beams:
Lord, for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.

4 As Thy prospering hand hath blest,

May we give Thee of our best;
And by deeds of kindly love
For Thy mercies grateful prove;
Singing thus through all our days,
Praise to God, immortal praise. Amen.

ANNA L. BARBAULD

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Oh, wash me in Thy precious blood, And take my sins a

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2 A few more suns shall set

O'er these dark hills of time,
And we shall be where suns are not,

A far serener clime:
Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that blest day;
Oh, wash me in Thy precious blood,

And take my sins away.
3 A few more storms shall beat

On this wild rocky shore,
And we shall be where tempests cease,

And surges swell no more:
Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that calm day;
Oh, wash me in Thy precious blood,

And take my sins away.

4 A few more struggles here,

A few more partings o'er,
A few more toils, a few more tears,

And we shall weep no more:
Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that bright day;
Oh, wash me in Thy precious blood,

And take my sins away. 5 'Tis but a little while

And He shall come again,
Who died that we might live, Who lives

That we with Him may reign:
Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that glad day;
Oh, wash me in Thy precious blood,
And take my sins away. Amen.

HORATIUS BONAR

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4 For this, and more than words can say,

We praise and bless Thy holy Name.
Come life or death, enough to know
That Thou art evermore the same. Amen.

John W. CHADWICK

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