183.

Sessions. L. M.

( 359.) L. O. Emerson. Arranged.

1. O for that flame of liv-ing fire Which shone so bright in saints of old,

Which bade their souls to hear'n aspire; Calm in distress, in dan-ger bold.

We thank thee, Lord, for this our food,

But more because of Jesus' blood,

Thy creatures bless, and grant that we Let manna to our souls be given,
The Bread of Life sent down from
Heaven.

May feast in Paradise with thee.

[Hymn No. 182 continued.]

2 My best beloved keeps his throne
On hills of light, in worlds unknown,
But he descends and shows his face
In the young gardens of his grace.

4 Till thou hast bro't me to thy home.
Where fears and doubts can never come,
Thy count'nance let me often see,
And often thou shalt hear from me.

3 He has engrossed my warmest love,5 0, may my spirit daily rise
No earthly charms my soul can move;
I have a mansion in his heart,
Nor death nor hell shall make us part.

On wings of faith above the skies,
Till death shall make my last remove
To dwell forever with my love.

186.

Go, let the Angels in.

Words by Miss Allen.

A little girl, who was about to expire, said to her mother: "Now, mother, I'm dying! Open the door and let the angels in-they've come to take me home."

2 I know that death has come, mother,
His hand is on my brow;
You cannot keep me here, mother,
For I must leave you now.
187.

The room is growing dark, mother-
I thought I heard you weep;
'Tis very sweet to die, mother,
Like sinking into sleep!

3 I now must say farewell! mother,
For I am going home!
Now open wide the door, mother,
And let the angels come!
And let them bear me far away,

Up to the world of love,
The city where the angels stay.
The brighter world above.

We'll Wait till Jesus Comes.

Music by Dr. Wm. Miller.

1. My heav'n-ly home is bright and fair, We'll be gather'd home,

Chorus.

Nor death nor sighing vis-it there, We'll be gather'd home. We'll wait

till Jesus comes, We'll wait till Jesus comes, We'll wait till Jesus comes, And we'll be gather'd home

[Remainder of hymn on next page.]

Hamburg. L. M.

1. Just as I am, with-out one plea, But that thy blood was shed for me,

And that thou bidst me come to thee, O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

The Dying Boy. 6, 8, 4.

1. Mother, I'm dy-ing now! There's a deep suf-focation in my breast,

As if some heavy hand my bo-som press'd, And on my brow

Come and let us sweetly join, Christ to praise in hymns di-vine;
Give we all with one ac-cord Glory to our

D. C. Hearts and hands and voices raise; Sing as in the

1. Come, my soul, thy suit pre-pare; Je-sus loves to answer prayer;

He himself in-vites thee near-Bids thee ask him, waits to hear.