THE GREEN HILL FAR AWAY

THERE is a green hill far away,

Without a city wall,

Where the dear Lord was crucified,
Who died to save us all.
We may not know, we cannot tell
What pains he had to bear;
But we believe it was for us

He hung and suffered there.

He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good,
That we might go at last to heaven,
Saved by his precious blood.
There was no other good enough
Το pay the price of sin;
He only could unlock the gate
Of heaven, and let us in.

O, dearly, dearly has he loved,
And we must love him, too,
And trust in his redeeming blood,
And try his works to do.

For there's a green hill far away,
Without a city wall,

Where the dear Lord was crucified,
Who died to save us all.

CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER

JOSEPH ADDISON (Milston, Wiltshire,

England, May 1, 1672 — London, June 17, 1719), one of the greatest of all writers of English prose, was the author of five hymns, all of which have been considered worthy a place in the permanent songs of worship of the church. This hymn is said to have been composed on returning from a perilous voyage on the Mediterranean in the year 1700, but it was not published until twelve years later, when it appeared in "The Spectator" as part of an essay on the subject of "The Sea."

THE TRAVELER'S HYMN

How are thy servants blest, O Lord!

How sure is their defence!
Eternal wisdom is their guide,

Their help, omnipotence.

In foreign realms, and lands remote,
Supported by thy care,

Through burning climes they pass unhurt,
And breathe in tainted air.

When by the dreadful tempest borne
High on the broken wave,

They know thou art not slow to hear,
Nor impotent to save.

The storm is laid, the winds retire,
Obedient to thy will;

The sea, that roars at thy command,
At thy command is still.

In midst of dangers, fears, and deaths,
Thy goodness we'll adore;

We'll praise thee for thy mercies past,
And humbly hope for more.

Our life, while thou preserv'st that life,
Thy sacrifice shall be;

And death, when death shall be our lot,
Shall join our souls to thee.

D

ADDISON

JOSEPH

[25]

THE Rev. Edward Hayes Plumptre, D.D. (London, Aug. 6, 1821 Wells, Feb. I, 1891), belongs to the school of modern hymn writers, his songs dealing with the living and the active. He was famed not only as a graceful preacher, but also as a writer of many books. This hymn was written in 1865, for the Choir Festival of Peterborough Cathedral. It is the most popular of all Dr. Plumptre's hymns.

THE WARRIOR'S SONG

REJOICE, ye pure

ye pure in heart! Rejoice, give thanks, and sing! Your glorious banner wave on high, The cross of Christ your King!

Still lift your standard high!
Still march in firm array!

As warriors, through the darkness toil,
Till dawns the golden day!

At last the march shall end;
The wearied ones shall rest;

The pilgrims find their Father's house,
Jerusalem the blest.

Then on, ye pure in heart!

Rejoice, give thanks, and sing! Your glorious banner wave on high, The cross of Christ your King!

EDWARD HAYES PLUMPTRE