2 Uncertain life, how soon it flies! 3 Our days, alas! how short their hound! 610. L.M. MRS. STEELE. The warnings of mortality. 1THAT awful hour will soon appear, When all that pains or pleases here, 2 Death calls my friends, my neighbours hence, And none resist the fatal dart: 3 Think, O my soul! how much depends Shall time, which heav'n in mercy lends, Be negligently thrown away? 4 Thy remnant minutes strive to use; Awake! rouse ev'ry active pow'r! PP 3 And We would a lively sense maintain 2 Just like the grass our bodies stand, A blasting wind sweeps o'er the land; Soon fades the grass away. 3 Our life contains a thousand springs, And dies if one be gone: Strange that a harp of thousand strings 4 'Tis GOD alone upholds our frame, OUR 614. C.M. WATTS. The precarious tenure of human life. UR wasting lives are short'ning still, And ev'ry beating pulse we tell Still leaves the number less. 2 The year rolls round, and steals away 3 Dangers stand thick thro' all the ground, To push us to the tomb; And fierce diseases wait around, 1 612. P.M. WATTS. ۱۰ Life, death, and resurrection. ETERNAL GOD, how frail is man ! Few are the hours, and short the span, A bright reward awaits the just. And find a resurrection there. 1 Which makes e'en death itself our gain, 613. С.м. WATTS. GOD the preserver of frail man. IET others, confident and vain, We 4 When my dim eyes are sunk in death, 3 May his kind presence bring relief 616. C.M. BURNS. Penitential hope in the divine goodness. THOU unknown, Almighty cause In whose dread presence, ere an hour, 2 If I have wander'd in those paths 8 Where human weakness has come short, Or frailty stepp'd aside, Do thou, Ali-good! for such thou art, 4 Where with intention I have err'd, But thou art good; and goodness still 617. P. M. 1 617. P.M. HAWKESWORTH. YET Reflections on death. a few years or days, perhaps, Or moments, pass in silent lapse, And time to me shall be no more; No more the sun these eyes shall view; Earth o'er these limbs her dust shall strew, And life's delusive dream be o'er. 2 Great GOD! how awful is the scene! A breath, a transient breath between ; And can I trifle life away ? To earth, alas! too firmly bound, 4 Great cause of all, above, below! 618. S. M. |