3 "So," saith the God of grace, "My gospel shall descend, Almighty to effect The purpose I intend; Millions of souls Shall feel its power, And bear it down To millions more." 170. S. M. Moore. Christianity. 1 Behold the sun, how bright From yonder east he springs, As if the soul of life and light Were breathing from his wings. 2 So bright the gospel broke Upon the souls of men; So fresh the dreaming world awoke In truth's full radiance then. 3 Before yon sun arose, Stars clustered through the sky; But, O, how dim, how pale, were those, To his one burning eye! 4 So truth lent many a ray, To bless the Pagan's night; But, Lord, how faint, how cold, were they, To Thy one glorious light! 171. L. M. Emily Taylor. Thy Kingdom Come! 1 "Thy kingdom come!" The heathen lands, In error sunk, Thy presence crave; And victims bound by tyrant hands Implore Thee, Father, come and save! 2 "Thy kingdom come!" Each troubled mind In doubt and darkness calls for Thee; For Thou hast eyes to give the blind, And strength to set the captive free. 3 Thy reign of peace and love begin! Too oft the Christian's sacred name Is stained by wrath and shamed by sin; O, come, assert the gospel's claim! 4 O, never in that righteous cause Our hearts be slow, our voices dumb; Upon the glorious theme we pause, And fervent pray, "Thy kingdom come!" 172. C. M. Gaskell. Thy Kingdom Come! 1 O God! the darkness roll away Which clouds the human soul, And let the bright, the perfect day, Speed onward to its goal. 2 Let every hateful passion die, Which makes of brethren foes; And war no longer raise its cry, To mar the world's repose. 3 Let faith, and hope, and charity, Go forth through all the earth; And man, in heavenly bearing, be True to his heavenly birth. 4 Yea, let Thy glorious kingdom come Of holiness and love, And make this world a portal meet For Thy bright courts above. 173. S. M. *H. Martineau. The Coming of Christ in Power. 1 Lord Jesus, come! for here Our path through wilds is laid; We watch, as for the dayspring near, Amid the breaking shade. 2 Lord Jesus, come! for hosts Meet on the battle-plain; Our holiest hopes seem vainest boasts, And tears are shed like rain. 3 Lord Jesus, come! the slave Still bears his heavy chains; Their daily bread the hungry crave, While teem the fruitful plains.