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HYMN 622, C. M. 622

Prayer in View of Death. af 1 WHEN, bending o'er the brink of life,

Waiting to pass death's awful flood,

Great God! at thy command ;-
2 When every long-loved scene of life

Stands ready to depart;
When the last sigh, that shakes the frame,

Shall rend this bursting heart;-
3 O thou great Source of joy supreme!

Whose arm alone can save,
Dispel the darkness, that surrounds

The entrance to the grave.
4 Lay thy supporting, gentle hand

Beneath iny sinking head ;
And, with a ray of love divine,

Illume my dying bed.
mp 5 Leaning on thy dear faithful breast,

May I resign my breath,
And, in thy fond embraces, lose

66 The bitterness of death."

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HYMN 623, S. M. 623

Reflections on past Generations. 1 HOW swift the torrent rolls,


The tide which hurries thoughtless souls
P To vast eternity!
-2 Our fathers !—where are they,

With all they called their own
Their joys and griefs--and hopes and cares,

And wealth and honor--gone!
3 But joy or grief succeeds

Beyond our mortal thought,
While still the remnant of their dust

Lies in the grave forgot. тр 4 There, where the fathers lie,

Must all the children dwell;
Nor other heritage possess,

But such a gloomy cell.

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5 God of our fathers ! lear,

Thou everlasting Friend!
While we, as on life's utmost verge,

Our souls to thee commend.
6 Of all the pious dead

May we the footsteps trace,
Till with them, in the land of light,

We dwell before thy face.



HYMN 624, L. M. 624

Death of the Righteous.

OW blest the righteous when he dies, P

When sinks a weary soul to rest !

How mildiy beam the closing eyes! P> How gently leaves th' expiring breast! mp 2 So fades a summer cloud away;

So sinks a gale when storms are o'er;

So gently shuts the eye of day; P

So dies a wave along the shore. mp 3 A holy quiet reigns around,

A calm which life nor death destroys;
Nothing disturbs that peace profound,

Which his unfettered soul cnjoys.
4 Farewell, conflicting hopes and fears !

Where lights and shades alternate dwell :
How bright th' unchanging morn appears !

Farewell, inconstant world! farewell! 5 Life's duty done, as sinks the clay,

Light from its load the spirit flies; While heaven and earth combine to say,-

“How blest the righteous when he dios !"

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HYMN 625, 88 and 78. 625

The dying Saint comforted. mf 1

APPY soul! thy days are ending,

All thy mourning days below:
Go, the angel guards attending-

To the sight of Jesus go!
Waiting to receive thy spirit,

Lo! the Saviour stands above;
Shows the fullness of his merit-

Reaches out the crown of love.

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2 For the joy he sets before thee,

Bear a momentary pain ;
Die-to live a life of glory ;

Suffer-with thy Lord to reign :
Struggle, through thy latest passion,

To thy dear Redeemer's breast,
To liis uttermost salvation,

To lis everlasting rest.

HYMN 626, 7s and 4. 626

Support in Death. aft 1

THEN the vale of death appears,

Faint and cold this mortal clay,–
Kind Forerunner! soothe my fears,

Light me through the darksome way;
Break the shadows, -

Usher in eternal day.
2 Upward from this dying state,

Bid my waiting soul aspire;
Open thou the crystal gate;

To thy praise attune my lyre :
Then, triumphant,-

I will join th’immortal choir.
3 When the mighty trumpet, blown,

Shall the judginent dawn proclaim,
From the central, burning throne,

Mid creation's final flame,
With the ransomed, -

Thou wilt own my worthless name.

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HYMN 627, C. M. 627

Mourning with Hope. aft 1 once-lored form, now cold and dead,

Each mournful thought employs;
And nature weeps, her comforts fled,

And withered all her joys.
2 Hope looks beyond the bounds of time,-

When what we now deplore
Shall rise, in full immortal prime,

And bloom to fade no inore.
3 Then cease, fond nature! cease thy tears,

Religion points on high;

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mf There everlasting spring appears, And joys that cannot die.

HYMN 628, L. M. 628

Death of an Infant. mp 1

O fades the lovely, blooming flower,-

Frail smiling solace of an hour!
So soon our transient comforts fly,

And pleasure only blooms to die. aft 2 Is there no kind, -no lenient art,

To heal the anguish of the heart?
Spirit of grace! be ever nigh,

Thy comforts are not made to die.
3 Bid gentle patience smile on pain,

Till dying hope shall live again ;

Hope wipes the tear from sorrow's eye, mf And faith points upward to the sky.

HYMN 629, C. M. 629

The Grave peaceful. mp 1

Where— Th' appointed house, by leaven's decree,

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

Their passions rage no more;
And there, the weary pilgriın rests

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

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

To meet their final doom.

HOW still and

peaceful is the grave,


HYMN 630, C. M. 630

Prospect of Denth. тр

Y soul! come, meditate the day,

And think, how near it stands,
When thou must quit this house of clay,

And fly to unknown lands. 2 And you, my eyes! look down and view P

The hollow gaping tomb;
This gloomy prison waits for you,

Whene'er the summons come.

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3 Oh! could we die with those that die, .

And place us in their stead;
Then would our spirits learn to fly,

And converse with the dead.
4 Then should we see the saints above,

In their own glorious forms,
Avd wonder, wliy our souls should love

To dwell with mortal worms.
5 We should almost forsake ou clay,

Before the summons come,
And pray, and wish our souls away,

To their eternal home.

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HYMN 631, 83 and 78. 631

The Spirit of a dying Christian. < 1


ARTING soul! the flood awaits thee, mf

And the billows round thee roar;
Yet rejoice,-the holy city,

Stands on yon celestial shore.
2 There, are crowns and thrones of glory,

There, the living waters glide;
There, the just in shining raiment,

Standing by Immanuel's side. mf 3 Linger not,—the stream is narrow,

Though its cold dark waters rise ;
He, who passed the flood before thee,

Guides thy path to yonder skies.


HYMN 632, L. M. 632

Death disarmed.
1 THY 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.
mp 2 The pains, the groans, the dying strife,

Fright our approaching souls away;
Still we shrink back again to life,

Fond of our prisou and our clay.
3 Oh! if my Lord would come and meet,

My soul would stretch her wings in haste,
Fly fearless through death's iron gate,
Nor feel the terrors as she passed.

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