2 What though broad before you
Spreads a tossing tide?
God is strong and mighty

Waters to divide.
With my rod uplifted,

Forward see me go;

Back! ye hungry billows,

Let the people through. Roll back, etc.

3 March, God's chosen people!

Over doubt and dread;

All that daunts shall vanish

Where ye fearless tread.
Only march on boldly,

Looking far away

From the black sea-bottom,

To the breaking day. Roll back, etc. 4 Dread not threatening billows

Which like walls uprear;

Dread not hosts pursuing,

Armed with sword and spear.
Wherefore now faint-hearted?

Trust ye in your God!
Look on me, your leader,

With uplifted rod. Roll back, etc.

5 Soon shall all be gathered

Safe on yonder shore;
Foes who long have daunted,

Ye shall see no more.
Looking back, shall wonder

What ye had to fear;

Marvel how ye doubted

When your help was near.

Strike, strike the sounding timbrel

By the placid sea;

Shout, shout to God, as thunder,
Songs of victory. Amen.

CHORUS.

Roll back, rushing wa

ters! Stay thy waves, O sea! That

I may gain the Blessed land, My God has promised

Chorus to the last verse.

me.

Strike, strike the sound-ing tim - brel, By the placid

8

sea:

110.

Joyfully.

SING THE SONG.

MARTIN S. SKEFFINGTON.

1. Sing the song, the triumph song, The victor's crown is on;Shout to Christ and

march a-long, The bat-tle's fought and won Raise it till it shake the sky!

For the Saints, the Saints on high, Their day of strife and labour done. A-men.

2 Down the deep and darksome vale They passed from out of sight, Now beyond its river pale

They mount to deathless light, To the land of verdant bowers And of sweet, unfading flowers, Forever fair, forever bright.

3 Patriarch and prophets stand
In joy on either side;

Now possess the Promised Land,
Bestowed by Him who died,
Now their types are all complete,
Priest, and king, and prophet meet,
In glad accord, and satisfied.

4 Oh! upon the holy height

An altar-throne is spread, There the Lamb, in radiant light With thorn-encircled head, Saints that from the valley rose

Are with glad, expectant eyes, To Jesus Christ, the Saviour led. 5 Martyr host, confessors true,

And many a faithful priest; Humble souls, earth never knew, The first, who were the least; Sing the Saints, their sorrows o'er, Weeping, wanting now no more,

They full enjoy the marriage-feast. Amen.