Up in Heaven, up in Heaven,
In the bright place far away,
He Whom bad men crucified,
Sitteth at His Father’s side,
Til the Judgment Day.

And He loves His little children,
And He pleadeth for them there,
Asking the great God of Heav’n
That their sins may be forgiven,
And He hears their prayer.

Never more a helpless Baby,
Born in poverty and pain,
But with awful glory crowned,
With His angels standing round,
He shall come again.

Then the wicked souls shall tremble,
And the good souls shall rejoice;
Parents, children, every one,
Then shall stand before His throne,
And shall hear His voice.

And all faithful holy Christians,
Who their Master’s work have done,
Shall appear at His right hand
And inherit the fair land
That His love has won.

There’s a great day coming, a great day coming;
There’s a great day coming by and by,
When the saints and the sinners shall be parted right and left,
Are you ready for that day to come?

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Are you ready? Are you ready?
Are you ready for the judgment day?
Are you ready? Are you ready?
For the judgment day?

There’s a bright day coming, a bright day coming;
There’s a bright day coming by and by.
But its brightness shall only come to them that love the Lord.
Are you ready for that day to come?

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There’s a sad day coming, a sad day coming;
There’s a sad day coming by and by,
When the sinner shall hear his doom: “Depart, I know you not!”
Are you ready for that day to come?

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Dear Lord, who dwellest with us now
In sad humanity,
Give us beneath the cross to bow
Which men have laid on Thee.

When hunger calls to us for bread
With childhood’s piteous plea,
Make us to know what Thou hast said
Of those who give to Thee.

When stranger knocketh at our door
For cheer and sympathy,
Our hearts would warmest greetings pour,
That we may welcome Thee.

When sick and sore distressed appeal
In man’s infirmity,
We’d haste the broken heart to heal
That we may comfort Thee.

When captive lives in mortal pains
Are clamoring to be free,
We’d strike away the heavy chains
That we may succor Thee.

Fountain of good, to own Thy love,
Our thankful hearts incline;
What can we render, Lord, to Thee,
When all the worlds are Thine?

But Thou hast needy brethren here,
Partakers of Thy grace,
Whose names Thou wilt Thyself confess
Before the Father’s face.

And in their accents of distress
Thy pleading voice is heard;
In them Thou may’st be clothed and fed
And visited and cheered.

Thy face with rev’rence and with love
We in Thy poor would see;
O may we minister to them,
And in them, Lord, to Thee.

God, how can we comprehend—though we’ve seen them times before—
Lines of people without end fleeing danger, want, and war?
They seek safety anywhere, hoping for a welcome hand!
Can we know the pain they bear? Help us, Lord, to understand!

You put music in their souls; now they struggle to survive.
You gave each one gifts and goals; now they flee to stay alive.
God of outcasts, may we see how you value everyone,
For each homeless refugee is your daughter or your son.

Lord, your loving knows no bounds; you have conquered death for all.
May we hear beyond our towns to our distant neighbors’ call.
Spirit, may our love increase; may we reach to all your earth,
Till your whole world lives in peace; till we see each person’s worth.

Heaven is here, where hymns of gladness
Cheer the toilers’ rugged way,
In this world where clouds of sadness
Often change to night our day;
Heaven is here, where misery lightened
Of its heavy load is seen,
Where the face of sorrow brightened,
By the deed of love hath been.

Where the sad, the poor, despairing,
Are uplifted, cheered, and blest,
Where in others’ labors sharing,
We can find our surest rest;
Where we heed the voice of duty,
Tread the path that Jesus trod;
This is Heaven, its peace, its beauty,
Radiant with the love of God.

When saw we Thee a-hungered, Lord,
And ministered unto Thee?
Inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these,
Ye have done it unto Me.

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Blessèd lesson that we all may learn,
Blessèd plaudit that we all may earn.

When saw we Thee athirst, O Lord,
And ministered unto Thee?
Inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these,
Ye have done it unto Me.

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When saw we Thee a stranger, sick,
Or in prison, and came to Thee?
Inasmuch as ye have done it to the least of these,
Ye have done it unto Me.

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Jesus, my Lord, how rich Thy grace!
Thy bounties, how complete!
How shall I count the matchless sum!
How pay the mighty debt!

High on a throne of radiant light
Dost Thou exalted shine;
What can my poverty bestow,
When all the worlds are Thine?

But Thou hast brethren here below,
The partners of Thy grace,
And wilt confess their humble names
Before Thy Father’s face.

In them Thou mayst be clothed and fed,
And visited and cheered,
And in their accents of distress
My Savior’s voice is heard.

Thy face with reverence and with love,
I in Thy poor would see;
O rather let me beg my bread,
Than hold it back from Thee!

Jesus, Thou divine Companion,
By Thy lowly human birth
Thou hast come to join the workers,
Burden bearers of the earth.
Thou, the Carpenter of Nazareth,
Toiling for Thy daily food,
By Thy patience and Thy courage,
Thou hast taught us toil is good.

They who tread the path of labor
Follow where Thy feet have trod;
They who work without complaining
Do the holy will of God.
Thou, the Peace that passeth knowledge,
Dwellest in the daily strife;
Thou, the Bread of heaven, broken
In the sacrament of life.

Every task, however simple,
Sets the soul that does it free;
Every deed of love and kindness
Done to man is done to Thee.
Jesus, Thou divine Companion,
Help us all to do our best;
Bless in our daily labor,
Lead us to the Sabbath rest.

Just a little kindness shown along the weary road;
Just a little lifting of another’s heavy load;
Just a little pity that is tenderly bestowed,
May win a soul for Jesus.

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In the name of Him Who died for you,
To your vow of service are you true?
Never, then, neglect it,
For when you least expect it,
You may win a soul for Jesus.

Just a little sacrifice of ease that we have earned;
Just a little sharing of a lesson we have learned;
Just a little stirring of the flame that low has burned,
May win a soul for Jesus.

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Just a little pleading in the name of Him Who died;
Just a little earnestness, like His, who is your Guide;
Just a little longing for someone lost at your side,
May win a soul for Jesus.

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Lord, lead the way the Savior went,
By lane and cell obscure;
And let love’s treasures still be spent,
Like His, upon the poor.

Like Him, through scenes of deep distress,
Who bore the world’s sad weight,
We, in their crowded loneliness,
Would seek the desolate.

For Thou hast placed us side by side
In this wide world of ill;
And, that Thy followers may be tried,
The poor are with us still.

Mean are all offerings we can make;
Yet Thou hast taught us, Lord,
If given for the Savior’s sake,
They lose not their reward.

Lord of Glory, who hast bought us with Thy lifeblood as the price,
Never grudging for the lost ones that tremendous sacrifice;
And with that hast freely given blessings countless as the sand,
To the unthankful and the evil with Thine own unsparing hand.

Grant us hearts, dear Lord, to yield Thee gladly, freely, of Thine own.
With the sunshine of Thy goodness melt our thankless hearts of stone.
Till our cold and selfish natures, warmed by Thee, at length believe
That more happy and more blessed ’tis to give than to receive.

Wondrous honor hast Thou given to our humblest charity.
In Thine own mysterious sentence, “Ye have done it unto Me.”
Can it be, O gracious Master, Thou dost deign for alms to sue,
Saying by Thy poor and needy, “Give as I have given you”?

Yes: the sorrow and the suffering, which on every hand we see,
Channels are for tithes and offerings due by solemn right to Thee;
Right of which we may not rob Thee, debt we may not choose but pay,
Lest that face of love and pity turn from us another day.

Lord of Glory, who hast bought us with Thy lifeblood as the price,
Never grudging for the lost ones that tremendous sacrifice;
Give us faith, to trust Thee boldly; hope, to stay our souls on Thee;
But O, best of all Thy graces, give us Thine own charity.

O do some good deed ev’ry day,
And speak kind words along the way;
O sing a glad and cheerful song,
For it may make some weak heart strong.

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O do some good deed ev’ry day,
Then will the loving Master say:
“Your deeds wrought in My Name shall be
Recorded as done unto Me.”

O help a brother bear his load
O’er life’s uphill and dreary road;
With those who need, share ev’ry day
The blessings God has sent your way.

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O seek, and you will always find
The sheaves of good to reap and bind;
There’s something you can do or say
For Christ the Master’s sake each day.

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O God of mercy! hearken now
Before Thy throne we humbly bow;
With heart and voice to Thee we cry
For all on earth who suffering lie.

We seek Thee where Thou dwell’st on high;
Beyond the glittering, starry sky:
We find Thee where Thou dwell’st below
Beside the beds of want and woe.

O let the healing waters spring,
Touched by Thy pitying angel’s wing;
With quick’ning pow’r new strength impart
To palsied will, to withered heart.

Where poverty in pain must lie,
Where little suffering children cry,
Bid us haste forth as called by Thee,
And in Thy poor Thyself to see.

O God of mercy, God of might,
In love and pity infinite,
Teach us, as ever in Thy sight,
To live our life to Thee.

And Thou Who cam’st on earth to die,
That fallen man might live thereby,
O hear us, for to Thee we cry
In hope, O Lord, to Thee.

Teach us the lesson Thou hast taught,
To feel for those Thy blood hath bought;
That every word and deed and thought
May work a work for Thee.

For all are brethren, far and wide,
Since Thou, O Lord, for all hast died;
Then teach us, whatsoe’er betide,
To love them all in Thee.

In sickness, sorrow, want or care,
Whate’er it be, ’tis ours to share;
May we, when help is needed, there
Give help as unto Thee.

And may Thy Holy Spirit move
All those who live, to live in love,
Till Thou shalt greet in Heaven above
All those who live to Thee.

O, sing we a carol all blithe and free,
And fit for our Christmas morn,
For the world is as cold as the cold can be,
Though its Lord on this day was born;
Though its Lord on this day was born:
’Tis a wintry time for the rich and poor,
And who should be driv’n from a Christian’s door?

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’Tis a wintry time for the rich and poor,
And who should be driven from a Christian’s door?
And who should be driv’n from a Christian’s door?

For the angel’s song at the birth of Christ,
With tidings of joy began;
And it rang with a glory to God in the highest,
And a brotherhood true for man;
Yet ’twas winter time for rich and poor,
When the shepherds came to the stable door.
Yet ’twas winter time for the rich and poor,

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True sages were they who to Bethlehem led,
Brought frankincense, myrrh, and gold,
Which they offered to Christ on His manger bed,
With a reverent love untold.
Yet ’twas winter time for rich and poor,
When the wise men knelt at the stable door.
Yet ’twas winter time for the rich and poor,

Refrain

Cannot we make our offerings now to Christ’s need,
When His poor all around we see?
“Inasmuch as to them we have done the deed,”
He will say, “Ye have done to Me.”
He will say, “Ye have done to Me.”
’Tis a wintry time for the rich and poor,
And who should be driv’n from a Christian’s door?

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O Jesus, Master, when today,
I meet, along the crowded way,
My burdened brothers—mine and Thine—
May then through me Thy Spirit shine.

To cheer them in their onward way,
Till evening ends the varied day,
To kindle so a growing light,
Where else might be but gloom and night.

Grant, too, that they my need may know,
As side by side we onward go—
An equal need of kindly thought,
And love like that which Thou hast taught.

Then give our hands a touch divine,
And to our voices tones like Thine,
As side by side we onward go,
Nor need each other’s name to know.

Lord, help me live from day to day
In such a self-forgetful way
That even when I kneel to pray
My prayer shall be for—Others.

Refrain

Others, Lord, yes others,
Let this my motto be,
Help me to live for others,
That I may live like Thee.

Help me in all the work I do
To ever be sincere and true
And know that all I’d do for You
Must needs be done for—Others.

Refrain

Let “Self” be crucified and slain
And buried deep: and all in vain
May efforts be to rise again,
Unless to live for—Others.

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And when my work on earth is done,
And my new work in Heav’n’s begun,
May I forget the crown I’ve won,
While thinking still of—Others.

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A poor wayfaring Man of grief
Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief
That I could never answer nay.
I had not power to ask his name,
Whereto he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye
That won my love; I knew not why.

Once, when my scanty meal was spread,
He entered; not a word he spake,
Just perishing for want of bread.
I gave him all; he blessed it, brake,
And ate, but gave me part again.
Mine was an angel’s portion then,
For while I fed with eager haste,
The crust was manna to my taste.

I spied him where a fountain burst
Clear from the rock; his strength was gone.
The heedless water mocked his thirst;
He heard it, saw it hurrying on.
I ran and raised the suff’rer up;
Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,
Dipped and returned it running o’er;
I drank and never thirsted more.

’Twas night; the floods were out; it blew
A winter hurricane aloof.
I heard his voice abroad and flew
To bid him welcome to my roof.
I warmed and clothed and cheered my guest
And laid him on my couch to rest;
Then made the earth my bed, and seemed
In Eden’s garden while I dreamed.

Stripped, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side.
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment—he was healed.
I had myself a wound concealed,
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.

In pris’n I saw him next, condemned
To meet a traitor’s doom at morn.
The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
And honored him ’mid shame and scorn.
My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,
He asked if I for him would die.
The flesh was weak; my blood ran chill,
But my free spirit cried, “I will!”

Then in a moment to my view
The stranger started from disguise.
The tokens in His hands I knew;
The Savior stood before mine eyes.
He spake, and my poor name He named,
“Of Me thou hast not been ashamed.
These deeds shall thy memorial be;
Fear not, thou didst them unto Me.”

We’re “counting” the blessings, our joys we record,
The wonderful mercies like sunbeams outpoured;
But let us remember while praising the Lord,
Somebody else needs a blessing.

Refrain

Somebody else needs a blessing,
Somebody else needs a blessing;
We’ll let our lights shine to His glory divine,
Somebody else needs a blessing.

We’ll go, like the Savior, to comfort the sad;
With love’s healing portion we’ll make others glad,
Until, with fresh verdure, life’s deserts are clad;
Somebody else needs a blessing.

Refrain

We’ll tell the old story again and again;
Salvation for sinners, good will unto men,
Till Gospel songs echo from mountain to glen;
Somebody else needs a blessing.

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Lonely hearts to comfort,
Weary lives to cheer—
This is our endeavor,
This our mission here;
Seeking out the lost ones
On the mountains cold,
We would gladly bring them
To the Shepherd’s fold.

Pressing on together,
Doing good to all,
In the name of Jesus,
Lifting those who fall;
To the poor and friendless
Give with open hand—
This is our endeavor,
This the Lord’s command.

Onward, ever onward,
Trusting in the Lord,
Look we for the promise
Of a blest reward,
Robes and palms of glory,
Mansions bright and fair,
Welcome from the Savior,
Rest for ever there.

Our school is a vineyard, a garden of truth,
Where all can do something for Jesus;
And though we are just in the morning of youth,
We all can do something for Jesus;
The deep, rolling river that flows to the sea
Is made of the brooklet that sparkles so free;
A lesson, dear children, for you and for me,
We all can do something for Jesus.
The deep, rolling river that flows to the sea
Is made of the brooklet that sparkles so free.

Refrain

We all can do something for Jesus,
Something, something,
We all can do something for Jesus,
Something for Jesus.

A word to the erring, of kindness and love,
May often remind them of Jesus;
A song of our beautiful mansion above,
May lead a poor wand’rer to Jesus;
The acorn, when planted, though small it may be,
How quickly it grows to a wide spreading tree;
A lesson, dear children, for you and for me,
We all can do something for Jesus.
The acorn, when planted, though small it may be,
How quickly it grows to a wide spreading tree.

Refrain

Oh! sweeter, far sweeter, than riches or fame,
To feel we are working for Jesus;
The cup of cold water we give in His Name,
Will bring us the blessings of Jesus;
The brook and the acorn, the leaf and the tree
Are teaching a lesson to you and to me;
No matter how simple the effort may be,
We all can do something for Jesus.
The brook and the acorn, the leaf and the tree
Are teaching a lesson to you and to me.

Refrain

When thy heart, with joy o’erflowing,
Sings a thankful prayer,
In thy joy, O let thy brother
With thee share.

When the harvest sheaves ingathered
Fill thy barns with store,
To thy God and to thy brother
Give the more.

If thy soul, with power uplifted,
Yearn for glorious deed,
Give thy strength to serve thy brother
In his need.

Share with him thy bread of blessing,
Sorrow’s burden share;
When thy heart enfolds a brother
God is there.

And will the Judge descend,
And must the dead arise
And not a single soul escape
His all discerning eyes?

And from His righteous lips
Shall this dread sentence sound
And through the numerous guilty throng
Spread black despair around:

“Depart from Me, accursed,
To everlasting flame,
For rebel angels first prepared,
Where mercy never came”?

How will my heart endure
The terrors of that day
When earth and Heav’n before His face
Astonished shrink away?

But ere that trumpet shakes
The mansions of the dead,
Hark from the Gospel’s cheering sound
What joyful tidings spread:

Ye sinners, seek His grace
Whose wrath ye cannot bear;
Fly to the shelter of His cross
And find salvation there.

So shall that curse remove,
By which the Savior bled;
And the last awful day shall pour
His blessings on your head.

That awful day will surely come,
Th’appointed hour makes haste,
When I must stand before my Judge,
And pass the solemn test.

Thou lovely Chief of all my joys,
Thou Sovereign of my heart!
How could I bear to hear Thy voice
Pronounce the sound, “Depart!”

The thunder of that dismal word
Would so torment my ear,
’Twould tear my soul asunder, Lord,
With most tormenting fear.

What! to be banished from my Life,
And yet forbid to die!
To linger in eternal pain,
Yet death forever fly!

O, wretched state of deep despair!
To see my God remove,
And fix my doleful station where
I must not taste His love.

Jesus, I throw my arms around,
And hang upon Thy breast;
Without a gracious smile from Thee
My spirit cannot rest.

O, tell me that my worthless name
Is graven on Thy hands;
Show me some promise in Thy book
Where my salvation stands!

Give me one kind assuring word
To sink my fears again,
And cheerfully my soul shall wait
Her threescore years and ten.

Woe to the men on earth who dwell,
Nor dread the Almighty’s frown,
When God doth all His wrath reveal,
And shower His judgments down!

Sinners, expect those heaviest showers,
To meet your God prepare;
For, lo! the seventh angel pours
His phial in the air.

Lo! from their seats the mountains leap,
The mountains are not found;
Transported far into the deep,
And in the ocean drowned.

Who then shall live, and face the throne,
And face the Judge severe?
When heaven and earth are fled and gone,
O where shall I appear?

Now, only now, against that hour
We may a place provide;
Beyond the grave, beyond the power
Of hell, our spirits hide:

Firm in the all destroying shock,
May view the final scene;
For, lo! the everlasting Rock
Is cleft to take us in.

O how can they look up to Heaven,
And ask for mercy there,
Who never soothed the poor man’s pang,
Nor dried the orphan’s tear?

The dread omnipotence of Heaven
We every hour provoke;
Yet still the mercy of our God
Withholds the avenging stroke.

And Christ was still the healing friend
Of poverty and pain;
And never did imploring soul
His garment touch in vain.

May we with humble effort take
Example from above;
And thence the active lesson learn
Of charity and love!

But chiefly be the labor ours
To shade the early plant;
To guard from ignorance and guilt
The infancy of want;

To graft the virtues, ere the bud
The canker worm has gnawed,
And teach the rescued child to lisp
Its gratitude to God.

Deep and grand in tones sublime,
Hear the passing bells of time,
Ring the dirge of moments dead,
Golden hours whose joys are fled—
Still those bells of time we hear,
Tolling, tolling: Hark! the word:

Refrain

Eternity!
Eternity!
Eternity!

In the rosy morning fair,
In the sultry noonday glare,
In the dewy evening bright,
In the silent hush of night—
Still those bells of time we hear,
Tolling, tolling, loud and clear:

Refrain

When with breaking heart we bend,
O’er a tried and faithful friend,
When the parting hour draws nigh,
And we catch the last “goodbye”—
Still those bells of time we hear,
Tolling, tolling, loud and clear:

Refrain

Precious word! if safe we stand
On the Christian’s borderland
Trusting Him, whose loving smile
Lights and cheers us all the while—
Bells of time with joy we hear,
Tolling, tolling, sweet and clear:

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