1 Your harps, ye trembling saints,
Down from the willows take;
Loud to the praise of Christ our Lord,
Bid every string awake.
2 Tho' in a foreign land,
We are not far from home;
And nearer to our house above,
We every moment come.
3 His grace will to the end
Stronger and brighter shine;
Nor present things, nor things to come,
Shall quench the spark divine.
4 The time of love will come,
When we shall clearly see
Not only that he shed his blood,
But each shall say, for me.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Your harps, ye trembling saints |
Title: | Weak Believers encouraged |
Meter: | S. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1793 |
Topic: | The Christian Life |
Notes: | Public Domain. |