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1 NIVE to the winds thy fears;

Hope and be undismayed;
God hears thy sighs and counts thy tears,

God shall lift up thy head.
2 Through waves and clouds and storms

He gently clears thy way;
Wait thou Iis time; so shall this night

Soon end in joyous day.

3 Leave to His sovereign sway

To choose and to command;
So shalt thou wondering own. His way

How wise, how strong His hand!

4 Far, far above thy thought

His counsel shall appear,
When fully He the work hath wrought

That caused thy needless fear.

5 Thou seest our weakness, Lord;

Our hearts are known to Thee; O lift Thou up the sinking hand,

Confirm the feeble knee.

6 Let us in life, in death,

Thy steadfast truth declare,
And publish with our latest breath,
Thy love and guardian care.

Paul Gerhardt, 1656; tr. John Wesley, 1739

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1 YOUR OUR harps, ye trembling saints,

Down from the willows take; Loud to the praise of love divine, Bid

every string awake. Though in a foreign land,

We are not far from home,
And nearer to our house above

We every moment come. 2 Fastened within the veil,

Hope be your anchor strong,
His loving Spirit the sweet gale

That wafts you smooth along;
Or should the surges rise,

And peace delay to come,
Blest is the sorrow, kind the storm,

That drives us nearer home.

3 Soon shall our doubts and fears

Subside at His control; His loving-kindness shall break through

The midnight of the soul:
Still on His plighted love

At all events rely;
The very hidings of His face

Shall train thee up to joy. 4 Tarry His leisure then,

Although He seem to stay;
A moment's intercourse with Him

Thy grief will overpay.
Blest is the man, O God,

That stays himself on Thee;
Who waits for Thy salvation, Lord,
Shall Thy salvation see.

Augustus M. Toplady, 1772

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Who pa - tient bears his cross be- low, He

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fol- lows in His train.

A - men.

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3 A glorious band, the chosen few

On whom the Spirit came, Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew,

And mocked the cross and flame; They met the tyrant's brandished steel,

The lion's gory mane, They bowed their necks the death to feel:

Who follows in their train?

4 A noble army, men and boys,

The matron and the maid,
Around the Saviour's throne rejoice,

In robes of light arrayed;
They climbed the steep ascent of heaven

Through peril, toil and pain:
O God, to us may grace be given
To follow in their train!

Reginald Heber, 1783-1826

PRESBYTER C. M. D.

Walter O. Wilkinson, 1895

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1
LI
IFT up your heads, ye gates of brass,

Ye bars of iron, yield,
And let the King of glory pass;

The cross is in the field:
That banner, brighter than the star

That leads the train of night,
Shines on their march, and guides from far

His servants to the fight.
2 A holy war those servants wage;

Mysteriously at strife,
The powers of heaven and hell engage

For more than death or life.
Ye armies of the living God,

His sacramental host,
Where hallowed footsteps never trod

Take your appointed post.

3 Though few and small and weak your bands,

Strong in your Captain's strength Go to the conquest of all lands;

All must be His at length:
Those spoils at His victorious feet

You shall rejoice to lay,
And lay yourselves, as trophies meet,

In His great judgment-day.
4 O fear not, faint not, halt not now;

Quit you like men, be strong!
To Christ shall all the nations bow,

And sing with you this song:
“Uplifted are the gates of brass,

The bars of iron yield;
Behold the King of glory pass;
The cross hath won the field."

James Montgomery, 1843, v: 4, line 3 alt.

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