147 THE

HE strife is o'er, the battle done;
The triumph of the Lord is won;

O let the song of praise be sung. Alleluia!

2 The powers of death have done their worst,
And Jesus hath his foes dispersed ;

Let shouts of praise and joy outburst. Alleluia !

3 On this third morn he rose again

In glorious majesty to reign;

O let us swell the joyful strain. Alleluia!

4 He closed the yawning gates of hell;
The bars from heaven's high portals fell;
Let songs of joy his triumphs tell. Alleluia!

4 Jesus lives! our hearts know well
Naught from us his love shall sever;
Life, nor death, nor powers of hell,

Tear us from his keeping ever.

Alleluia !

5 Jesus lives! to him the throne
Over all the world is given :
May we go where he is gone,

Rest and reign with him in heaven.

Alleluia !

HOU art gone up on high,

149 THOU

To realms beyond the skies,
And round thy throne unceasingly

Sweet songs of praise arise.

2 Thou art gone up on high,

But thou didst first come down
Through earth's most bitter misery
To pass unto thy crown.

3 But we are lingering here

With sin and care oppressed;
Lord, send thy promised Comforter,
And lead us to our rest.

4 Here, girt with griefs and fears,

Our onward course must be ;
But only let this path of tears
Lead us at last to thee.

V.

4

9:4 4

150 COME, thou holy Spirit, come;

And from thine eternal home
Shed the ray of light divine;

Come, thou Father of the poor,
Come, thou source of all our store,
Come, within our bosoms shine!

2 Thou of Comforters the best,
Thou the soul's most welcome Guest,
Sweet Refreshment here below!

In our labor rest most sweet,
Grateful shadow from the heat,
Solace in the midst of woe!

8 0 most blessed Light Divine,

Shine within these hearts of thine,
And our inmost being fill;
If thou take thy grace away,
Nothing pure in man will stay-
All our good is turned to ill.

4 Heal our wounds; our strength renew; On our dryness pour thy dew;

Wash the stains of guilt away; Bend the stubborn heart and will, Melt the frozen, warm the chill, Guide the steps that go astray.

5 On the faithful, who adore And confess thee, evermore

In thy sevenfold gifts descend. Give them virtue's sure reward, Give them thy salvation, Lord,

Give them joys that never end.