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The Book of Praise.
If such the sweetness of the stream,
What must the Fountain be, Where saints and angels draw their bliss
Immediately from Thee !
O ! may the unction of these truths
For ever with me stay, Till, from her sinful cage dismiss'd,
My spirit flies away !
Augustus Montague Top lady. 1777.
We're bound for yonder land Where Jesus reigns supreme ; We leave the shore at His command, Forsaking all for Him.
The perils of the sea, The rocks, the waves, the wind, Are small, whatever they may be, To those we leave behind.
Nor have we cause to fear ; The God, who rules the sea, In every danger will be near, And our protector be.
The Lord Himself will keep His people safe from harm, Will hold the helm, and guide the ship, With His Almighty arm.
Then let the tempests roar, The billows heave and swell; We trust to reach the peaceful shore Where all the ransom'd dwell: