THE CHURCH
CONGREGATIONAL HYMNS

(S. M.) R. C. H. 361

by AUGUSTUS MONTAGUE TOPLADY, 1740-78.

Your harps, ye trembling saints
"Why are you down cast, O my soul? Put your hope in God' Psa. 42:11
Your harps, ye trembling saints,
Down from the willows take:
Loud to the praise of love divine
Bid every string a wake.
Thought in a foreign land,
We are not far from home;
We nearer to our house above
We every moment come.
His grace will to the end
Stronger and brighter shine;
Nor present things nor things to come
Shall quench the spark divine.
Neither the present things
Nor is the things to come;
Can separate us from the love
Of Christ Jesus our Lord.
When we in darkness walk,
Nor feel the heavenly flame,
Then is the time to trust our God,
And rest upon His Name.
Soon shall our doubts and fears
Subside at His control:
His loving-kindness shall break through
The midnight of the soul.
Wait till the shadows flee;
Wait thy appointed hour:
Wait till the bridegroom of thy soul
Reveals His love with power.
Blest is the man, O God,
That stays himself on Thee:
Who wait for Thy salvation, Lord,
Shall Thy salvation see.