Swift through the vast expanse it flew, And loud the echo rolled; The theme, the song, the joy was new— ’Twas more than heaven could hold! Down through the portals of the sky The impetuous torrent ran; And angels flew with eager joy To bear the news to man. Wrapt in the silence of the night Lay all the eastern world, When bursting glorious heavenly light The wondrous scene unfurled. Hark! the cherubic armies shout, And glory leads the song! Good-will and peace are heard throughout The harmonious heavenly throng. 74. Gentle Jesus, meek and mild, Look upon a little child: Pity my simplicity, Teach me, Lord, to come to Thee. Fain I would to Thee be brought, Lamb of God, forbid it not! In the kingdom of Thy grace, Give a little child a place. 75. Lord, how delightful ’tis to see A whole assembly worship Thee! At once they sing, at once they pray; They hear of heaven, and learn the way. I have been there, and still would go; ’Tis like a little heaven below: Not all my pleasures, nor my play, Shall tempt me to forget this day. O write upon my memory, Lord, The texts and doctrines of thy Word, That I may break thy laws no more, But love thee better than before. With thoughts of Christ and things divine, Fill up this foolish heart of mine; That, hoping pardon through his blood, I may lie down and wake with God. 76. There is a happy land, Far, far away! Where saints in glory stand, Bright, bright as day. O how they sweetly sing, Worthy is our Saviour King! Loud let his praises ring,— Praise, praise for aye! Come to this happy land, Come, come away; Why will ye doubting stand, Why still delay? Oh! we shall happy be, When from sin and sorrow free; Lord, we shall live with thee, Blest, blest for aye! 77. Lovelier far than Sharon’s Rose, Music no such sweetness knows; E’en the Lily’s modest white Ceases to afford delight; When my Lord and Saviour’s here, All but vanity appear! Ophir’s gold, how poor and dim! What are pearls compared with him? Pleasure is a specious name, Diadems no glory claim! Give me but a sight of him, All beside’s a baseless dream. Blessed Jesus! let my tongue Evermore thy love prolong; Can I cease to think of Thee, Life’s immortal, fragrant tree? Rather let the crimson tide Instant from its channels glide! No! my heart to Thee is given, All my bliss is fixed in heaven: All my wish to feel thy grace, Taste thy love and see thy grace, Where each ardent spirit vies, Thee to praise in highest skies. 78.