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And let the prince of Hell
For why? His doom is writ,
God's word, for all their craft and force,
One moment will not linger,
And though they take our life,
These things shall vanish all,
Martin Luther. 1483-1501.
TO COLONEL ROBERT G. SHAW.
FAIR-HAIRED Northern hero,
With thy guard of dusky hue, Up from the field of battle
Rise to the last review!
Sweep downwards, holy angels,
In legions dazzling bright,
Before Christ's throne of light.
The Master, who remembers
The cross, the thorns, the spear, .
As their ransomed souls appear.
C o to the grave in all thy glorious prime,
U In full activity of zeal and power ; A Christian cannot die before his time;
The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour.
Go to the grave; at noon from labor cease ;
Reft on thy sheaves; thy harvest-task is done ; Come from the heat of battle, and in peace,
Soldier, go home; with thee the fight is won. Go to the grave ; for there thy Saviour lay
In death's embrace, ere he arose on high ; And all the ransomed, by that narrow way,
Pass to eternal life beyond the sky.
Go to the grave; — no; take thy seat above;
Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord, Where thou for faith and hope haft perfect love, And open vision for the written word.
J. Montgomery. 1803 - 1853.
n HOLY Father, just and true
Are all thy works and words and ways, And unto thee alone are due
Thanksgiving and eternal praise ! As children of thy gracious care,
We veil the eye, we bend the knee, With broken words of praise and prayer,
Father and God, we come to thee.
For thou hast heard, O God of right,
The fighing of the hapless slave;
Not shortened that it could not save.
The laborer fits beneath his vine,
The shackled soul and hand are free; —
Praise ! — for the blessing is of thee.
Speed on thy work, Lord God of hosts!
And when the bondsman's chain is riven,
The anthem of the free to heaven,
As with thy cloud and fire before,
7. G. Whittier.
PREPARE YE THE WAY OF THE LORD.
1 VOICE from the desert comes awful and shrill ;
Bring down the proud mountain, though towering to heaven,
The beams of salvation his progress illume,
Drummond. 1585 – 1649.
comes a bright ways reign ;
O PPRESSION shall not always reign;
There comes a brighter day,
Shall have triumphant way.
And hold eternal sway.
The hour of triumph comes apace,
The fated, promised hour,