480.

mp

aff

481.

The Issues of Life and Death.

1 O, WHERE shall rest be found,
Rest for the weary soul?

'Tis vain the ocean-depths to sound,
Or pierce to either pole:

The world can never give

The bliss, for which we sigh;
'Tis not the whole of life to live,
Nor all of death to die.

2 Beyond this vale of tears
There is a life above,
Unmeasur'd by the flight of years,
And all that life is love:
There is a death, whose pang
Outlasts the fleeting breath;
O what eternal horrors hang
Around the "second death!"

8 Lord God of truth and grace,
Teach us that death to shun,
Lest we be banish'd from thy face,
And evermore undone ;

Here would we end our quest;
Alone are found in Thee'

The life of perfect love,―the rest
Of Immortality!

MONTGOMERY,

1 MAN is the child of wo,

His days are fill'd with care,

Till scythe shall lay his blossoms low,
And all his pride o'erbear.

2 The tree will sprout again,

Though struck by feller's blow;

But man, will he his growth regain,
When in the grave laid low?

3 Man wastes away, and dies,
And crumbles in the ground;
His freed, immortal spirit flies,
Nor here again is found.

4 His sleep beneath the clod

Is calm, and shall be so,

Till comes the judgment day from God,
When earth in flames shall glow!

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L. M.

ALLEN.

Ramoth. 97th Psalm.

Triumph over Death.

1 WHY should we start and fear to die?
What tim'rous worms we, mortals, are!
Death is the gate of endless joy;
And yet we dread to enter there.

2 The pains, the groans, the dying strife
Fright our approaching souls away;
We still shrink back again to life,
Fond of our prison and our clay.

3 O, if my Lord to me would come,
My soul in haste should stretch her wings,
And fly, rejoicing, to her home,

As sky-lark, mounting upward, sings!

mp 4 JEsus can make a dying bed

mf

Feel soft as downy pillows are,

While, strong in faith, and free from dread,

mp> I breathe my life out sweetly there!

WATTS.

483.

(ii. 3.)

C. M.

Mear. China.

Death of a Saint.

1 WHY weep we for departing friends?
Or shake at death's alarms?

"T is but the voice, that Jesus sends,
To call them to his arms.

2 Are we not tending upward too,

As fast, as time can move?

Nor would we wish the hours more slow,

To keep us from our Love.

3 Why should we tremble to convey

Their bodies to the tomb?

There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
In silence and in gloom.

4 The graves of all the saints He bless'd,
And soften'd ev'ry bed:

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Where should the dying members rest,
But with the dying Head?

5 Thence He arose, ascended high,
And show'd our feet the way:
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly
At the great, rising day.

6 Then let the last, loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise;

Awake ye nations under ground!
Ye saints, ascend the skies!

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WATTS.

Bangor. Funeral Thought.

At a Funeral.

1 HARK! from the tombs a doleful sound'
Mine ears attend the cry,-

"Ye living men, come view the ground,
Where you must shortly lie!

2 "Princes! this clay must be your
In spite of all your towers;

bed,

The tall, the wise, the rev'rend head
Must lie as low, as ours!"

3 Great God! is this our certain doom?
Must we too slumber there?

Are we fast hast'ning to the tomb,
And yet no more prepare?

Aff 4 0, grant us heav'nly pow'r afresh,
To fit our souls to fly;

Then, when we drop this dying flesh,
We'll rise above the sky!

WATTS.

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485.

(ii. 110.)

S. M. Cedron. Little Marlborough.

Death and the Resurrection.

1 AND must this body die?

This wondrous frame decay?

And must these active limbs soon lie,
And moulder in the clay?

2 Though worms my frame devour,
They shall refine this flesh,
Till my returning spirit's hour
To put it on afresh.

Each season has its own disease,
Its peril ev'ry hour.

8 Turn, mortal, turn!-thy danger know ;-
Where'er thy foot can tread,

mp The earth rings hollow from below,
And warns thee of her dead!

4 Turn, christian, turn!-thy soul apply
To truths, which hourly tell,

That they, who underneath thee lie,

Shall live, for heav'n,—or hell! PRATT'S COLL.

475.

S. M.
Death.

Boylston. Utica.

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1 TO pass through death to life

Is dark and dang'rous way;

Yet who would shun the fearful strife,
That doth that life survey?

2 In all its amplitude

Where ocean is outspread,

I've often, musing, wond'ring stood
With awe and mighty dread.

9 I've seen the surges dash ;

I've heard the ceaseless roar,
As on the rocks, with foaming crash,
They break along the shore.

mp 4 But far beyond the surge
I see the calm, blue deep;
To peril there no billows urge,
And terror there doth sleep.

The Christian's Farewell.

1 YE golden lamps of heav'n, adieu,
With all your feeble light;

And, changing moon, farewell to you,
Pale empress of the night.

mf 2 And thou, refulgent orb of day,
In brighter flames arrayed,

My soul, that springs beyond thy ray,
No more demands thy aid.

3 Ye stars are but the shining floor &

Of my divine abode,

The lowly pavement,—and no more,—
Oftemple of my God!

4 The Father of eternal light
Shall there his beams display;

And ever clear, and fair, and bright
Shall be that endless day!

mf 5 There all his saints, with praises due,
Shall in one song unite;

And each the bliss of all shall view
With sweetness of delight. DODDRIDGE.

477.

(ii. 52.) C. M.

Elgin. Bangor,

Death dreadful or delightful.

1 DEATH! 't is a melancholy day,
To those, who have no God,
When the poor soul is forc'd away
To seek her last abode.

2 In vain to heav'n she lifts her eyes,
For guilt, a heavy chain,

Still drags her downward from the skies
To darkness, fire, and pain.

mp 3 Then, sinners, flee the path to hell,
Th'abyss of deep despair,

Lest ye be driv'n from earth, to dwell
A long FOREVER there!

mf 4 Blest be the God of sov'reign love,
Who promis'd heav'n to me,

And taught my soul to soar above,
Where happy spirits be.

Aff 5 Prepare me, Lord, for thy right hand,
Then come the joyful day;

Come, death, and some celestial band

To bear my soul away!

WATTS

C