Wild Looking Flowers with Do you fear the foe will in the conflict win and The Bible is the book I need

Do you fear the foe will in the conflict win?
Is it dark without you-darker still within?
Clear the darkened windows, open wide the door,
Let a little sunshine in.

Does your faith grow fainter in the cause you love?
Are your prayers unanswered by your God above?
Clear the darkened windows, open wide the door,
Let a little sunshine in.

Would you go rejoicing in the upward way,
Knowing naught of darkness, dwelling in the day?
Clear the darkened windows, open wide the door,
Let a little sunshine in.

Chorus
Let a little sunshine in,
Let a little sunshine in;
Clear the darkened windows, open wide the door,
Let a little sunshine in.

Ada Blenkhorn

The Bible is the book I need,
So precious, so precious;
It helps me ev’ry time I read
Its message for the day;
The words of everlasting love,
There whispered by the Holy Dove,
Bring consolation from above,
So precious, so precious.

Joy glitters on its open page,
So precious, so precious;
The guide of youth, the staff of age,
The lamp that lights our way;
It tells me of redeeming might
That puts the pow’rs of sin to flight,
Of cleansing blood and garments white,
So precious, so precious.

The Bible is the book for me,
So precious, so precious;
Until my Savior’s face I see
And in his presence stay;
Till then, my Father’s blessed will,
And strength his bidding to fulfill,
I’ll gather from my Bible still,
So precious, so precious.

E. E. Hewitt

Green Eggs, Blue Vase and Red-Orange Flowers and We are pilgrims looking home

We are pilgrims looking home,
Sad and weary, oft we roam,
But we know ‘twill all be well in the morning;
When, our anchor safely cast,
Ev’ry stormy wave is past,
And we gather safe at last in the morning.

O these tender broken ties,
How they dim our aching eyes,
But like jewels they will shine in the morning;
When our victor palms we bear,
And our robes immortal wear,
We shall know each other there in the morning.

When our fettered souls are free,
Far beyond the narrow sea,
And we hear the Savior’s voice in the morning;
When our golden sheaves we bring
To the feet of Christ our King,
What a chorus we shall sing in the morning.

Thro’ our pilgrim journey here,
Tho’ the night is sometimes drear,
Let us watch and persevere till the morning;
Then our highest tribute raise
For the love that crowns our days,
And to Jesus give the praise in the morning.

Chorus:
When we all meet again in the morning,
On the sweet, blooming hills in the morning;
Never more to say good night
In that sunny region bright,
When we hail the blessed light of the morning.

Lizzie Edwards

Mother's Mirror and Fresh Peonies with God will fill our hearts for service and All praise to Him who reigns above

God will fill our hearts for service,
In the same old way;
He will answer prayer and bless us
In the same old way.

Does your heart burn for another
In the same old way?
Will you seek to win some other
In the same old way?

God will help the weak and weary
In the same old way;
He will cheer the life that’s dreary
In the same old way.

Will you tell the wondrous story
In the same old way?
That your Lord may have the glory
In the same old way?

Chorus
In the same old way,
In the same old way;
God will bless and save His people
In the same old way.






All praise to Him who reigns above,
In majesty supreme;
Who gave his Son for man to die,
That he might man redeem.

His name above all names shall stand,
Exalted more and more,
At God the Father’s own right hand,
Where angel hosts adore.

Redeemer, Savior, Friend of man,
Once ruined by the fall,
Thou hast devised salvation’s plan,
For thou hast died for all.

His name shall be the Counsellor,
The mighty Prince of Peace,
Of all earth’s kingdoms conqueror,
Whose reign shall never cease.

The ransomed hosts to thee shall bring
Their praise and homage meet;
With rapturous awe adore their King,
And worship at his feet.

Then shall we know as we are known,
And in that world above
Forever sing around the throne
His everlasting love.

Chorus:
Blessed be the name, blessed be the name,
Blessed be the name of the Lord;
Blessed be the name, blessed be the name,
Blessed be the name of the Lord.

W. H. Clark

Sleeping Cat with Hark to the music resounding and I am waiting for the Master

Hark to the music resounding,
Reapers are needed today;
Fields are all white, to the harvest
Let us be up and away!
Ever the Master is calling,
Hasten! the shadows are falling;
On to the harvest field,
Gather the golden yield,
Precious sheaves.

Forward with hearts full of gladness,
Reapers, I pray you, make haste;
Grain there is ready and waiting,
If not soon gathered, will waste;
Then let us hear you replying,
Labor with courage undying,
Send up a word of cheer,
Tell of the rest so near,
Rest at home.

Hark to the song they are singing!
See, they have treasures so rare;
Soon will the harvest be ended,
Haste, then, their trophies to share.
Let no one be idly dreaming,
Look! look! the harvest is gleaming,
Join ye the reaping band,
Lend them a helping hand,
Ere the night.

Chorus
Hark! hark! comes the song,
On!  on!  join the throng;
Forth with joyful, loving heart,
Bravely do your part;
Hark! hark! rings the call;
Haste! haste! one and all;
On where the harvest stands,
Waiting for willing hands
Souls to win.

Lizzie DeArmond

I am waiting for the Master,
Who will bid me rise and come
To the glory of his presence,
To the gladness of his home.

Many a weary path I’ve traveled,
In the darkest storm and strife,
Bearing many a heavy burden, -
Often struggling for my life.

Many friends that traveled with me
Reached that portal long ago;
One by one they left me battling
With the dark and crafty foe.

Yes, their pilgrimage was shorter,
And their triumphs sooner won;
Oh, how lovingly they’ll greet me
When the toils of life are done.

Yet, O Lord, I wait thy pleasure,
For thy time and ways are best;
Hear me, Lord, for I am weary;
O my Father, bid me rest.

CHORUS:
They are watching at the portal,
They are waiting at the door;
Waiting only for my coming
All the loved ones gone before.

Mrs. Kate M. Reasoner

Peonies on Chair and In Basket with When the early morning breaking and Dear Saviour, we are Thine

When the early morning breaking,
Slumber from my eyelids shaking,
Comes the blessed tho’t with waking,
I am in His keeping.
Day advances, labor bringing,
Care, her mantle ‘round me flinging,
Yet midst all my soul keeps singing,
I am in His care.

Sometimes dark clouds hang o’er me,
Not one step I see before me,
Still, my Savior, I adore Thee,
I am in His keeping.
I can trust His hand to guide me,
‘Neath His wings He’ll safely hide me,
And no harm can e’er betide me,
I am in His care.

Gentle eventide is nearing,
Light from Heaven disappearing,
Still the blessed tho’t so cheering,
I am in His keeping.
Now night’s curtains gather ‘round me,
Yet its dangers have not found me,
For His angel guards surround me,
I am in His care.

Chorus
I am in my Father’s keeping,
I am in His tender care;
Whether waking, whether sleeping,
I am in His care.

C. H. Morris

Dear Saviour, we are Thine,
By everlasting bands;
Our names, our hearts, we would resign,
And souls, into Thy hands.

To Thee we still would cleave,
With ever growing zeal;
If millions tempt us Christ to leave,
O let them ne’er prevail.

Thy Spirit shall unite
Our souls to Thee our Head;
Shall form us to Thy image bright,
That we Thy paths may tread.

Death may our souls divide
From these abodes of clay;
But love shall keep us near Thy side,
Through all the gloomy way.

Since Christ and we are one,
Why should we doubt or fear?
Since He in heaven has fixed His throne,
He’ll fix His members there.

Rev. Philip Doddridge

White Summer Flowers and Teapot with I do not ask to see the way and Let me but hear my Saviour say

I do not ask to see the way
My feet will have to tread,
But only that my soul may feed
Upon the living bread:
‘Tis better far that I should walk
By faith close to His side;
I may not know the way I go,
But oh, I know my Guide.

And if my feet would go astray,
They cannot, for I know
That Jesus guides my falt’ring steps,
As joyfully I go:
And though I may not see His face,
My faith is strong and clear
That in each hour of sore distress
My Savior will be near.

I will not fear, tho’ darkness come
Abroad o’er all the land,
If I may only feel the touch
Of His own loving hand:
And though I tremble when I think
How weak I am, how frail,
My soul is satisfied to know
His love can never fail.

Chorus
His love can never fail,
His love can never fail;
My soul is satisfied to know
His love can never fail.

E. S. Hall

Let me but hear my Saviour say,
“Strength shall be equal to thy day!”
Then I rejoice in deep distress,
Leaning on all-sufficient grace.

I glory in infirmity,
That Christ’s own power may rest on me;
When I am weak, then am I strong;
Grace is my shield, and Christ my song.

I can do all things-or can bear
All sufferings, if my Lord be there;
Sweet pleasures mingle with the pains,
While His own hand my head sustains.

Rev. Isaac Watts

Bibles and Yellow Roses with In tenderness He sought me and Upward where the stars are burning

In tenderness He sought me,
Weary and sick with sin,
And on His shoulders bro’t me,
Back to His fold again,
While angels in His presence sang
Until the courts of Heaven rang.

He washed the bleeding sin-wounds,
And poured in oil and wine;
He whispered to assure me,
“I’ve found thee, thou art Mine;”
I never heard a sweeter voice,
It made my aching heart rejoice!

He pointed to the nail prints,
For me His blood was shed,
A mocking crown so thorny,
Was placed upon His head:
I wondered what He saw in me,
To suffer such deep agony.

I’m sitting in His presence,
The sunshine of His face,
While with adoring wonder
His blessings I retrace.
It seems as if eternal days
Are far too short to sound His praise.

So while the hours are passing,
All now is perfect rest;
I’m waiting for the morning,
The brightest and the best,
When He will call us to His side,
To be with Him, His spotless bride.

Chorus
Oh, the love that sought me!
Oh, the blood that bought me!
Oh, the grace that bro’t me to the fold,
Wondrous grace that bro’t me to the fold!

W. Spencer Walton

Upward where the stars are burning,
Silent, silent in their turning,
Round the never-changing pole;
Upward where the sky is brightest,
Upward where the blue is lightest,
Lift I now my longing soul.

Far above that arch of gladness,
Far beyond these clouds of sadness,
Are the many mansions fair.
Far from pain and sin and folly,
In that palace of the holy
I would find my mansion there.

Where the Lamb on high is seated,
By ten thousand voices greeted:
Lord of lords, and King of kings.
Son of man, they crown, they crown him;
Son of God, they own, they own him;
With his name the palace rings.

Blessing, honor, without measure,
Heavenly riches, earthly treasure,
Lay we at his blessed feet.
Poor the praise that now we render,
Loud shall be our voices yonder,
When before his throne we meet.

Horatius Bonar