234 Weak Believers Encouraged

Your harps, ye trembling saints,Down from the willows take;Loud to the praise of love divineBid ev'ry string awake. Though in a foreign land,We are not far from home;And nearer to our house aboveWe ev'ry moment come. His grace will to the endStronger and brighter shine;Nor present things, nor things to come,Shall quench the grace divine. When we in darkness walk,Nor feel the heav'nly flame,Then is the time to trust our God,And rest upon his Name.