2 "Thy will be | done!" || If o'er us shine A gladdening and a | prosperous | sun, || This prayer will make it more divine-- | "Thy will be | done!" 3 "Thy will be | done!" || Tho' shrouded o'er Our | path with | gloom, | one comfort, one || Is ours:--to breathe, while we adore, | "Thy will be | done." Sir. J. Bowring, 1825. 498 Shining Shore. 8s & 7s. Trochaic. _On Jordan's Strand._ (1146) My days are gliding swiftly by, And I a pilgrim stranger, Would not detain them as they fly, Those hours of toil and danger. Cho.--For, oh! we stand on Jordan's strand, Our friends are passing over; And, just before, the shining shore We may almost discover. 2 We'll gird our loins, my brethren dear! Our heav'nly home discerning; Our absent Lord has left us word,-- "Let ev'ry lamp be burning." 3 Should coming days be cold and dark, We need not cease our singing; That perfect rest none can molest, Where golden harps are ringing. 4 Let sorrow's rudest tempest blow, Each cord on earth to sever; Our King says,--"Come!" and there's our home, Forever, oh! forever! David Nelson, 1835. 499 Shining Shore. 8s & 7s. Trochaic. _Wayfarers._ (1147) Wayfarers in the wilderness, By morn, and noon, and even, Day after day, we journey on, With weary feet toward heaven. Cho.--O land above! O land of love! The glory shineth o'er thee; O Christ, our King! in mercy bring Us thither, we implore thee! 2 By day the cloud before us goes, By night the cloud of fire, To guide us o'er the trackless waste, To Canaan ever nigher. 3 The sea was riven from our feet, And so shall be the river; And, by the King's highway brought home, We'll praise his name forever: Alexander R. Thompson, 1869. 500 Nearer Home. 6s. _A Solemn Thought._ (1139) One sweetly solemn thought Comes to me o'er and o'er; I'm nearer home to-day Than e'er I've been before. Cho.--I'm nearer my home, nearer my home, Nearer my home to-day; Yes, nearer my home in heav'n to-day, Than ever I've been before. 2 Nearer my Father's house Where the blest mansions be; Nearer the great white throne, Nearer the crystal sea; 3 Nearer the bound where we Must lay our burdens down, Nearer to leave the cross, Nearer to gain the crown. 4 The waves of that deep sea Roll dark before my sight, But break, the other side, Upon a shore of light. 5 Oh! if my mortal feet Have almost gained the brink, If I am nearer home To-day than e'en I think, 6 Father! perfect my trust, That I may rest, in death, On Christ, my Lord, alone, And thus resign my breath. Phoebe Cary, 1852 _a._ 501 Consolation. P.M. _The Death of a Child._