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Keep thy robe white, nor stain its spotless hue, Be sober, prayerful, vigilant, and true.
Soon shalt thou strike on high thy golden lyre, To swell the heavenly strain thy voice conspire."
"Worthy the Lamb who died to set us free, Who bought with his heart's blood our endless liberty."
"LET my prayer be set forth before Thee as incense, and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice."-Psalm cxli. 2.
WHEN the soft zephyr whispers through the
And the leaves flutter in the gentle breeze,
And the melodious choristers of Spring
Cease their clear notes, and fold the wearied
In quiet rest, and the dim twilight creeps With deepening shadow o'er the sky, and
The falling dew o'er the departing day,
The closing flowers, the sun's last gilded ray;
Into thy gracious Saviour's tender breast
And His deep love shall soothe thy heart to
WAKE, slumbering Christian, ere the first faint
Of morning tinge the sky with crimson flush;
Plume thy soul's wings, and with a stedfast eye
As fragrant incense to thy God and Friend,
Of heavenly blessings multiplied each hour.
THE DYING CHRISTIAN.
"PRECIOUS in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints."-Psalm cxvi. 15.
"Oh, loose this frame, this knot of man untie,
That my free soul may use her wing
Which now is pinioned with mortality."
"I FEAR not death, for Christ has pass'd
Its terrors through;
And following Him, I mount at last
With heaven in view.
These ebon arrows tipp'd with love
Affright me not:
By faith upborne, I fly above,
All else forgot.
Like the free bird which springs on high,
I leave my clay;
And upward soar with stedfast eye
To realms of day.
To see His face who died for me
Whose precious blood,
Offered in love upon the tree,
Brought me to God.
Though feebly gasps my failing breath, I feel no fear;
I tremble not, though this be death,
For Christ is near.
His arm of love supports my head
He whispers peace;
His presence cheers my dying bed,
My sorrows cease.
Loosely these earthly fetters hang
One struggle more,