132. Soldiers of the Cross.

Written for the Lyre.

1 SOLDIERS of the cross, arise! Lo! your leader from the skies Waves before you glory's prize,

The prize of victory. Seize your armor-gird it on ; The battle's yours, it will be won; Though fierce the strife 'twill soon be done;

Then struggle manfully.

2 Jesus conquer'd when he fell, Met and vanquish'd earth and hell;

Now he leads you on, to swell

The triumphs of his cross. Though all earth and hell appear, Who will doubt or who can fear? "God our strength and shield" is

near;

We cannot lose our cause.

3 Onward, then, ye hosts of God! Jesus points the victor's rod; Follow where your Leader trod;

You soon shall see his face. Soon, your enemies all slain, The crown of glory you shall

gain; And walk among that glorious train,

Who shout their Savior's
praise.
J. B. W.

Christian Warrior.

Written for the Lyre.
1 SERVANTS of the living God,
When the paths of sin ye trod,
Grace restrain'd the angry rod;

Bless Messiah's name. Satan's bondmen once ye were, Willing captives in his snare, Till with mighty arm made bare, Christ your rescue came.

2 Now the fight of faith begin; Be no more the slaves of sin; Strive the victor's palm to win,

Trusting in the Lord.

Gird ye on the armor bright,
Warriors of the King of light,
Never yield, nor lose by flight

Your divine reward.

3 Fear not, though a feeble band, Marching through a hostile land; Guided by a mighty hand,

Ye shall win the day. Faithful to your banner be, Ever fighting manfully; Laurels shall be won by thee, Fading not away.

4 Sinners,long estranged from God,
Paths of sorrow ye have trod,
Oft have felt the avenging rod;

Give to Christ the glory due,
Be his soldiers faithful, true;
Then he will award to you,
An immortal crown.

Peace have never known.

W. M.

133. The Day is sport.

1 THE day is far spent,

The evening is nigh,
When we must lay down
The body and die;
Great God! we surrender

Our dust to thy care,
But, oh! for the summons
Our spirit prepare.

2 The hours that remain,
Oh, with us abide,
And in the dark vale

Of death, be our guide; Through life's weary journey, Thou still hast been near And in our last moments, Lord, for us appear.

3 We die to obtain

A seat with the blest,
A freedom from pain,
A mansion of rest;
We see, not regretting,
The shadows arise,
The sun of life setting
And night on the skies.

4 Though rayless the night,
Though starless the skies,
Extinguish'd all light,

And death on our eyes;
An unclouded morning
Shall rise on the tomb,
Before whose bright dawning
Shall vanish its gloom.

5 0, day long foretold!

When wilt thou appear?
Thy approach we behold
With hope and with fear!
righteous Judge, spare us,
From sin set us free,
And daily prepare us
To stand before thee!

134. A Brother is dead.

1 HARK! what is that note,
So mournful and slow,
That sends on the winds
The tidings of wo?
It sounds like the knell
Of a spirit that's fled;
It tells us, alas!

A brother is dead.

2 Yes, gone to the grave
Is he whom we loved;
And lifeless that form,
That so manfully moved;
The clods of the valley
Encompass his bad,
The marble reminds us,
A brother is dead.

3 But marble and urns!
They never can tell
The spot where the soul
Is destined to dwell.
Ye spirits of air,

That surrounded his bed,
O, speak ye, and tell
Where the spirit has fled

4 O say, have ye heard,

In the heavenly throng,
That voice, once with ours
Commingled in song?
O say, to the courts

Of our God, have ye led
The soul that from earth
For ever has fled.

5 No voice from the grave,
No voice from the sky,
Discloses the deeds
That are doing on high?
It need not: Jehovah
Hath said in his word,
That "Blessed are they,
Who die in the Lord."