mitchell-P044_A-8_1_5

VERSO:

Rest for the Weary.

From revival Melodies.

[musical score in 4/4 time]
In the christian's home in glory, There remains a land of rest; There my Savior's
gone before me, To fullfill my soul's request.

There is rest for the weary, There's rest for you.
On the other side of Jordan, In the sweet fields of Eden,

Where the tree of life is blooming, There is rest for you.

He is fitting up my mansion, which eternally shall stand,
For my stay shall not be transient, In that holy happy land.

Pain and sickness ne'er shall enter, grief nor woe my lot shall shar
But in that celestial centre, I a crown of life shall wear;

Death itself shall then be vanquish'ed
And its sting shall be withdrawn;
Shout for gladness, O ye ransomed -
Hail with joy the rising morn.

Sing, O sing, ye heirs of glory;
Shout your your triumphs as you go;
Lion's gates will open for you,
You shall find an entrance through.

RECTO:

Fourth Leaf.

Ohio P. M.

[musical score]

[U]pward I lift my eyes, From God is all my aid;
[the] God, who built the sky, And earth and nature made:
[G]od is the tower to which I fly;
His grace is nigh in every hour.

[musical score in 6/4 time]

1. Shall Jesus bear the cross alone, and all the world go free;

No, there's a cross for every one, And there's cross for me.

2. How happy are the saints above, Who went sorrowing here;
But now they taste umingled love, And joy without a tear

3. The consecrated cross I'll bear, Till death shall set me free;
And then go home my crown to wear, For there's a crown for me

[musical score in 3/4 time]

My days are gliding swiftly by, And I a pilgrim stranger, would not detain them as they fly!
Those hours of toil + danger.

For oh! we stand on Jordan strand, Our friends are passing over, And just before, the shinin shore
We may almost dis cover.

We'll gird our loins, my brethren dear, Our distant [home] diserning;
Our absent Lord has left us word, Let every lamp be burning.
For oh! xc

Should coming days be cold and dark, We need not cease our singing;
That perfect rest none can molest, Where golden harps are ringing.
Let sorrow's rudest tempest blow, Each cord on earth to sever,
Our King says come, and there's our home, For ever, oh! for ever.
For oh we stand xc