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2 Uncertain life, how soon it flies!
Dream of an hour, how short our bloom!
Like spring's gay verdure now we rise,
Cut down ere night to fill the tomb.

3 Our days, alas! how short their hound!
Though slow and sad they seem to run;
Revolving years roll swiftly round,
A mournful tale, but swiftly done.
4 Teach us to count our short'ning days,
And, with true diligence, apply
Our hearts to wisdom's sacred ways,
That we may learn to live and die.

610. L.M. MRS. STEELE.

The warnings of mortality.

1THAT awful hour will soon appear,
Swift on the wings of time it flies,

When all that pains or pleases here,
Will vanish from my closing eyes.

2 Death calls my friends, my neighbours

hence,

And none resist the fatal dart:
Continual warnings strike my sense;
And shall they fail to strike my heart?

3 Think, O my soul! how much depends
On the short period of a day:

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
That death is ever near.

2 Just like the grass our bodies stand,
And flourish bright and gay;

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
Should keep in tune so long.

4 'Tis GOD alone upholds our frame,
Who rear'd it from the dust:
Hosanna to his mighty name,
In whom is all our trust!

OUR

614. C.M. WATTS.

The precarious tenure of human life.

UR wasting lives are short'ning still,
As months and days increase;

And ev'ry beating pulse we tell

Still leaves the number less.

2 The year rolls round, and steals away
The breath which first it gave;
Where'er we are, whate'er we do,
We're travelling to the grave.

3 Dangers stand thick thro' all the ground, To push us to the tomb;

And fierce diseases wait around,
To hurry mortals home.

1

612. P.M. WATTS.

۱۰

Life, death, and resurrection.

ETERNAL GOD, how frail is man !

Few are the hours, and short the span,
Between the cradle and the grave:
Who can prolong his vital breath?
Who from the bold demands of death
Hath skill to fly, or pow'r to save ?
2 But let no murm'ring heart complain,
That therefore man is made in vain,
Nor the Creator's grace distrust:
For though his servants, day by day,
Go to their graves, and turn to clay,

A bright reward awaits the just.
3 Jesus has made thy purpose known,
A new and better life has shewn,
And we the glorious tidings hear:
For ever blessed be the LORD,
That we can read his holy word,

And find a resurrection there.
4 That grace, for ever, Lord, we praise,
Which to thy saints the hope displays
Of endless life without a pain;
Let all below, and all above,
Join to proclaim the wondrous love,

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Which makes e'en death itself our gain, 613. С.м. WATTS.

GOD the preserver of frail man.

IET others, confident and vain,
Nor death nor danger fear;

We

4 When my dim eyes are sunk in death,
And GOD, who gave, shall take, my breath;
May he sustain my fainting heart,
And comfort to my soul impart.

3 May his kind presence bring relief
From fear, despondency and grief:
His cheering voice direct my way
To regions of eternal day.

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616. C.M. BURNS.

Penitential hope in the divine goodness.

THOU unknown, Almighty cause
Of all my hope and fear!

In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!

2 If I have wander'd in those paths
Of life I ought to shun;
As something, loudly in my breast,
Remonstrates I have done :

8 Where human weakness has come short, Or frailty stepp'd aside,

Do thou, Ali-good! for such thou art,
In shades of darkness hide.

4 Where with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,

But thou art good; and goodness still
Delighteth to forgive.

617. P. M.

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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,
Trees deeply rooted in the ground
Are shiver'd when they're torn away.
3 Yet, dumb with wonder, I behold
Man's thoughtless race, in error bold,
Forget or scorn the laws of death;
With these no projects coincide,
Nor vows, nor toils, nor hopes, they guide;
Each thinks he draws immortal breath.

4 Great cause of all, above, below!
Who knows thee must for ever know
That thou'rt immortal and divine:
Thine image on my soul imprest,
Of endless being is the test,
And bids eternity be mine.

618. S. M.

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