ELMENDORF P. M.

931

ORGAN. f

I March, march, on ward soldiers true,
2 See, see, yon - der shines your home;

Take thro' cloud and mist your way, Yonder flows the fount of life, Yonder dwells e ter- nal day; Gates of pearl and walls of gold, Joy that heart hath never known, Bliss that tongue hath never told.

March,though myriad foes are nigh, Forward till ye reach the shore; Then when all the strife is done Victors then thro' Christ your Lord, Gathered round His glorious throne, Be it yours to sing His praise,

Rest in peace for- ev- er more. Hark,hark,loud the trumpet sounds; Wake, ye children of the light, Praise that He your King shall own. Praise,praise Him who reigns on high : Praise the co-eternal Son,

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Time is past for sloth and sleep; Wake and arm you for the fight, Spear and sword each warrior needs; Praise the Spir-it, Lord of life, Praise the blessed Three in One, Praise Him, ye who toil and fight;

Foes are round you, friends are few; Faint not, though the way be long, Faint- ing
Praise Him, ye who bear the palm, As the sound of might-y

seas

Pour your

way pur sue, Fainting still your way pursue.
lasting psalm, Pour your ev - er lasting psalm.

ORGAN.

Edward Hayes Plumtre 1865

ΤΟΠΑ

still your

ever

Je- sus, meek and gentle, Son of God mest high, Pitying,loving Saviour, Hear thy children's cry.

FAR, far away, there's a many mansioned dwelling,

Where the Saviour waits to welcome the dear souls for whom He died,
All across the darksome valley I can hear their anthems swelling,
And amid the golden glory I can see them by His side,

In the Home so far away!

2.

Far, far away, there's a haven deep and quiet,

Where the noiseless waves lie sleeping on the mountain-sheltered shore,
Where the surges never enter, where no stormy tempests riot,

Where the sails are furled for ever and the ship goes out no more,
From the Haven far away!

3.

So thitherward I travel, in gladness or in sorrow,

Across these trackless waters, with His love to cheer me through.
And as every sunset closes, I can fancy that the morrow

Will fire the heavenly mountains, with the Haven full in view

And no longer far away!

R. E. Littlewood 1858

One sweetly solemn thought Comes to me o'er and o'er,-Nearer my home to-day, am I Than e'er I've been before;