62 MY OWN NATIVE LAND. WM. B. BRADBURY. I've roamed over mountain, I've crossed over flood, I've traversed the wave-rolling sand; Tho' the fields were as green, and the D. 8. Tho' the fields were as green,and the Hymns to the Tune "My own Native Land." 68 I love the sweet birds, and the fields, and the flowers, But there's purer delight in the still sacred hours, Then I'll sing of my school, and the Sabbath I love, Thou Guide of my youth-thou Saviour divine l Bring me to share in that rest. 4 I'm a traveler, and I go Where all is fair; 2 I'm a weary traveler here, I must go on 3 I'm a traveler to a land Where all is fair, 5 I'm a traveler-call me not-Upward my way; THE RIVER OF LIFE. riv-er whose fresh waters flow O'er earth's broadest surface, a cure for all woe Its streams are all CHORUS.-A little Faster. healing, there's life in each wave, Oh, try it and prove it, 'tis mighty to save. Jesus calls, will you come? will you come? will you come? will you come? Je - sus calls, will you come? will you come? Come to Je-sus, come now. CODA.—Original Time. Yes, come, O come to Jesus, Come to Jesus, come now, Yes, come, O come to Jesus, Come to Jesus, come now. |