Old-Line Primitive Baptist Hymn and Tune Book

167 (H.M.) Joseph Swain

On earth the song begins;

In heav'n more sweet, more loud,

To Him who drowns our sins

In His atoning blood.

"To Him," they cry in rapt'rous strain,

"Be honor, praise and pow'r — Amen."

Ye saints on earth, repeat

What heav'n, with rapture, owns,

And, while before His feet

The elders cast their crowns,

Go, imitate the choirs above,

And tell teh world your Saviour's love.

Sing as ye pass along,

With joy and wonder sing,

'Til others learn the song

And own your Lord their King;

'Til converts join you as you go

And sing His praises here below.

Inform the listening world

How Jesus, when He fell,

The pow'rs of darkness hurled

Down to the depths of hell,

And rising, bore the rescued prize,

His church, in triumph through the skies.

Alone he took the field;

Alone, the battle fought.

With His own sword and shield

The mighty work He wrought.

The mighty work was all His own,

And let Him ever wear the crown.

Our feeble minds are lost

Beneath the lofty strain,

But, Jordan's billows crossed,

We'll catch the sound again;

In praise assist the heav'nly choir,

Nor ever stop, nor ever tire.