Imatges de pÓgina
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4 Within these walls, let holy peace,

And love and concord dwell;
Here give the troubled conscience ease,

The wounded spirit heal.
5 Here may salvation be proclaimed,

By thy most precious blood ;
Let sinners know the joyful sound,

And own their Saviour, God.
6 Here may a numerous crowd arise,

To bow before thy throne;
Here may their songs salute the skies,
To ages yet unborn.

C. M.

Eastport. Spencer. 673

Those blessed who die in the Lord.
1 HEAR what the voice from heaven proclaiins

For all the pious dead !
Sweet is the savor of their names,

And soft their sleeping bed.
2 They die in Jesus, and are blest;

How kind their slumbers are !
From suffering and from sin released,

They're freed from every snare.
3 Far from this world of toil and strife,

They're present with the Lord ;
The labors of their mortal life
End in a large reward.
C. M.

Eastport. Spencer, 674

Death and Burial of Christians.
1 WHY do we mourn departing friends,

Or shake at death's alarms?
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends

To call them to his arms.
2 Are we not tending upward too,

To heaven's desired abode ?-
Why should we wish the hours more slow,

Which keep us from our God ?
3 Why should we tremble to convey

Their bodies to the tomb?
'Twas there the Saviour's body lay,

And left a long perfume.
4 The graves of all his saints he blest,

And softened every bed :

L. M.

Where should the dying members rest,

But with their dying Head ?
5 Thence he arose, ascending high,

And showed our feet the way:
Up to the Lord his saints shall fly

At the great rising day.
mf 116 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,

And bid our kindred rise ;
Awake, ye nations under ground!

Ye saints! ascend the skies. 675

Medway. Munich. 1 UNVAIL thy bosom, faithful tomb;

Take this new treasure to thy trust,
And give these sacred relics room,

To slumber in the silent dust.
2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear

Invade thy bounds--no mortal woes
Can reach the peaceful sleeper here,

While angels watch the soft repose.
3 So Jesus slept-God's dying Son

Passed thro' the grave, and blest the bed. Rest here, blest saint, till from his throne

The morning break, and pierce the shade. 4 Break from his throne, illustrious morn!

Attend, 0 earth! his sovereign word;
Restore thy trust-a glorious form

Shall then arise to meet the Lord. 676

Sicilian Hymn. 1 CEASE, ye mourners, cease to languish

O'er the grave of those you love;
Pain, and death, and night, and anguish,

Enter not the world above.
2 While our silent steps are straying,

Lonely, through night's deepening shade,
Glory's brightest beams are playing

Round th' immortal spirit's head.
3 Light and peace at once deriving

From the hand of God most high,
In his glorious presence living,

They shall never--never die!
4 Endless pleasure, pain excluding,
Sickness there no more can come ;

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There, no fear of wo intruding,

Sheds o'er heaven a moment's gloom.
5 Now, ye mourners, cease to languish

O'er the graves of those ye love;
Far removed from pain and anguish,
They are chanting hymns above.

C. M

Dundee. Collingham. 677

Death of a Minister.
1 NOW let our mourning hearts revive,

And all our tears be dry;
Why should those eyes be drowned in grief,

That view a Saviour nigh?
2 What though the arm of conquering death

Does God's own house invade ?
What though the prophet and the priest

Are numbered with the dead ?
3 Though earthly shepherds dwell in dust-

The aged and the young-
The watchful eye in darkness closed,

And mute th’instructive tongue ;-
4 Th' eternal Shepherd still survives,

New comfort to impart;
His eye still guides us--and his voice

Still animates our heart.
5" Lo! I am with you,” saith the Lord,

“ Your safeguard, and your guide;
Your Saviour still—and happy they

Who in my love confide!
6 Through every scene of life and death,

This promise is our trust;

And this shall be our children's song,
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When we are cold in dust.
C. M.

Eastport. Burford. 678

Meditation on the Tomb.
1 HARK! from the tombs a doleful sound;

My ears, attend the cry-
“ Ye living men, come view the ground

Where you must shortly lie.
2 Princes, this clay must be your bed,

In spite of all your towers ;
The tall, the wise, the reverend head,

Must sie as low as ours !"

3 Great God! is this our certain doom?

And are we still secure ?
Still walking downwards to the tomb,

And yet prepare no more!
4 Grant us the power of quickening grace,

To fit our souls to fly;
Then, when we drop this dying flesh,

We'll rise above the sky.

C. M. St. Austin's. Bangor 679

A Warning from the Grave.
1 BENEATH our feet and o'er our head

Is equal warning given:
Beneath us lie the countless dead,

Above us is the heaven!
2 Death rides on every passing breeze,

And lurks in every flower;
Each season has its own disease,

Its peril every hour.
3 Turn, mortal, turn !--thy danger know :

Where'er thy foot can tread
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 heaven-or hell!

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C. M. Spencer. St. Austin's. 680

The House appointed for all Living.
1 HIOW still and peaceful is the grave,

Where, life's vain tumults past,
Th’ appointed house, by heaven's decree,

Receives us all at last!
2 The wicked there from troubling cease-

Their passions rage no more;
And there the weary pilgrim rests

From all the toils he bore.
3 All, levelled by the hand of death,

Lie sleeping in the tomb,
Till God in judgment call them forth,

To meet their final doom.

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C. M.

S. M.

Bethany. 681

Rapid Flight of Time.
1 MY few revolving years,

How swift they glide away!
How short the term of life appears,

When past—'tis but a day!-
2 A dark and cloudy day,

Made up of grief and sin;
A host of dangerous foes without,

And guilt and fear within.
3 Lord, through another year,

If thou permit my stay,
With watchful care may I pursue

The true and living way! 682

St. Mary's. Spencer. 1 BEHOLD, my soul, the narrow bound

That marks the passing year!
How swift the weeks complete their round!

How short the months appear!
2 So fast eternity comes on,

And that important day,
When all that mortal life has done,

God's judgment shall survey.
3 Yet, like an idle tale we pass

The swiftly gliding year,
And study artful ways t' increase

The speed of its career.
Af 4 Awake, O God! each trifling heart

Its great concern to see,
That all may act the Christian part,

And give the year to thee.
5 So shall their course more grateful roli,

If future years arise ;
Or this shall bear the willing soul

To joy which never dies.

C. M.

Stamford. York. 683

Praise for Providential Goodness.
1 GOD of our lives, thy various praise

Our voices shall resound:
Thy hand directs our fleeting days,

And brings the seasons round.

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