Cho.--Oh, the crowning day is coming, Is coming by and by, When our Lord shall come in "power," And "glory" from on high. Oh, the glorious sight will gladden, Each waiting, watchful eye, In the crowning day that's coming by and by. 2 The heavens shall glow with splendor, But brighter far than they The saints shall shine in glory, As Christ shall them array, The beauty of the Savior, Shall dazzle every eye, In the crowning day that's coming by and by. 3 Our pain shall then be over, We'll sin and sigh no more, Behind us all of sorrow, And nought but joy before, A joy in our Redeemer, As we to him are nigh, In the crowning day that's coming by and by. 4 Let all that look for, hasten The coming joyful day, By earnest consecration, To walk the narrow way. By gathering in the lost ones, For whom our Lord did die, For the crowning day that's coming by and by. D.W. Whittle 161 Truro. L.M. _The Church Longing for Christ._ (907) Jesus! thy church, with longing eyes For thine expected coming waits; When will the promised light arise, And glory beam from Zion's gates? 2 E'en now when tempests round us fall, And wintry clouds o'ercast the sky, Thy words with pleasure we recall, And deem that our redemption's nigh. 3 Oh! come and reign o'er ev'ry land; Let Satan from his throne be hurled, All nations bow to thy command, And grace revive a dying world. 4 Teach us, in watchfulness and prayer, To wait for the appointed hour; And fit us by thy grace to share, The triumphs of thy conquering power. William H. Bathurst, 1831. 162 Middletown. 8s & 7s. D. _Crown Him Lord of All._ (615) Crown his head with endless blessing, Who, in God the Father's name, With compassions never ceasing, Comes salvation to proclaim. Hail, ye saints, who know his favor, Who within his gates are found; Hail, ye saints, th' exalted Savior, Let his courts with praise resound. 2 Lo, Jehovah, we adore thee; Thee our Savior! thee our God! From his throne his beams of glory Shine through all the world abroad. Jesus, thee our Savior hailing Thee our God in praise we own; Highest honors, never failing, Rise eternal round thy throne. William Goode, 1811. 163 Abt. 8s & 7s. _Much Forgiven._ (616) Hail! my ever blessed Jesus! Only thee I wish to sing. To my soul, thy name is precious, Thou, my Prophet, Priest, and King. 2 Oh! what mercy flows from heaven! Oh! what joy and happiness! Love I much? I've much forgiven; I'm a miracle of grace. 3 Once with Adam's race in ruin, Unconcerned in sin I lay; Swift destruction still pursuing, Till my Savior passed that way 4 Witness, all ye host of heaven! My Redeemer's tenderness; Love I much? I've much forgiven; I'm a miracle of grace. 5 Shout, ye bright angelic choir! Praise the Lamb enthroned above; Whilst, astonished, I admire God's free grace, and boundless love.