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Hymnals of the Stone-Campbell Movement

Enos E. Dowling Hymnal Collection

Hymn: Sweet rivers of redeeming love (FL)

Hymnal: The Christian Hymn-Book

Date: 1829

Compiler: B W Stone and T Adams

Publisher/Printer: N L Finnell

First Line: Sweet rivers of redeeming love

Topic: <no topic given>

Writer: <no first name given> <no last name given>

Composer:

Meter:

Tune:

Hymn Number: 308

Page Number: 334, click to see hymnal pages

Lyics

Sweet rivers of redeeming love,

Lie just before mine eyes;

Had I the pinions of a dove,

I'd to those waters rise;

I'd rise superior to my pain,

With joy outstrip the wind,

And cross bold Jordan's stormy main,

And leave the world behind.



While I'm imprison'd here below

In anguish, pain and smart,

Oft times those troubles I forego,

When love surrounds my heart;

In darkest shadows of the night,

Faith mounts the upper sky,

I then behold my heart's delight,

And would rejoice to die.



I view the monster death, and smile,

Now he has lost his sting,

Though satan rages all the while,

I still the triumph sing:

I hold my Saviour in my arms,

And will not let him go,

I'm so delighted with his charms,

No other good I'll know.



A few more days or years at most,

My troubles will be o'er,

I hope to join the heavenly host,

On Canaan's happy shore.

My raptur'd soul shall drink and feast

In love's unbounded sea,

The glorious hope of endless rest

Transporting is to me.



O come my Saviour, come away,

And bear me through the sky,

Nor let thy chariot wheels delay,

Make haste and bring it nigh;

I long to see thy glorious face,

And in thine image shine,

To triumph in victorious grace,

And be forever thine.



Then will I tune my harp of gold,

To my eternal King,

To ages, that can ne'er be told,

I'll make thy praises ring:

All hail beloved Son of God,

Who died on Calvary,

And sav'd me with thy precious blood,

From endless misery.



Ten thousand thousand join in one,

Our God to glorify,

Prostrate before his dazzling throne,

In deep humility;

They rise and tune their harps of gold,

And swell the immortal lyre,

And ages, that can ne'er be told

Shall raise their praises higher.