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Woodbury, I. B. (Issac Baker), 1819-1858 (ed.) / The new lute of Zion: a collection of sacred music, designed for the use of congregations generally, but more especially the Methodist Episcopal Church
(c1856)
Part third. Containing pieces for prayer and social meetings, revivals, and music for the old folks., pp. [316]-362
Page 323
THE ROCK THAT IS HIGHER THAN 1.
Arr. frtheAewst.
1. In sea - sons of grief;to my God Il re-pair, When my heart is o'erwhelmed
with sor-ow and care, From the ends of the earth unto thee' will I cry,
2. When Sa- tan, my foe, comea in lke a flood, To drive my poor
soul from the foun - ta of good, I'll pray to the Sa - viour who kind-ly
did die,
I ff
8. And when I have end-d my pil -grim-age here, In Je - sus' pure
righteous- ness let me ap -pear, In the swellings of Jor - dan on thee I'll
re - ly, And-
4 And when the lastrum-pet sall soimd thro' te skies, When the dead from'the
dust ofthar earth shall arise, With mil-lions I'll join, far a - bove yon
-der sly, To
Lead me to the Rock that is high-er than1, High-er than I,
high- er than I, Lead me to the Rock that is high-er than
L
Leadme to the Roek that is hig her than I, High-er than1,
high-er than I, Lead me to the Rock that is high-erthan
L
look to the Rockthat is high-er thanI, ffgh-er than I,
h. er than I, And lookto the Rock that is high-er than
L
praise thedear Roek that is high-er thanl, High-er t
I, gh - er than I, To praisethe dear Rock that 'is high -er
than I
.. . . .. i ,__
S Small notes are for 3d arid 4th verses.
LYTE. (ll,1lllI1) From the Hallelujah, by Dr. MASON.
By pemliss on.
1 .y rest is in heaven, my rest is nt here, Then why should I murmur when
trials are near I Be hush'd, my dark spirit, the worst tht can come, But
shortens my journeyv, and hmstens me home
2. The thorn and the thistle a - round me may grow, I would not lie down
upon ros-es be- low; I ask for no portion, seek not to be blest, Till I find
in mil joy Mid my rest,
I I: Ii G- - - --I
: , I _
3. A ictions may grieve me, but can not (estroy, One glimpse of his
love turns them all into ioy: And bitterest tears, if he smile but on them,
Like deVV in the sunsine, grow diaiopd and gem.
4. A scrip on my back, and a stall in my hand, I march on in haste through
an eneiy's land The road may be roegh, bitt it can not be long, I'll smooth
it with hope, and I'l cheer it with song
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