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4 Jesus can make a dying bed

Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on liis breast I lean my head,

And breathe my life out sweetly there.

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HYMN 633, C. M. 633

Comfort in the Death of Friends.
1
WITY
THY do we mourn departing friends,

Or shake at death's alarms?
'T is but the voice that Jesus sends,

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

As fast as time can move?
Nor should we wish the hours more slow,

To keep us from our love.
3 Why should we tremble, to convey

Their bodies on the tomb?
dol There, the dear fiesta of Jesus lay,

And left a long perfume.
4 The graves of all the saints he blessed,
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And softened every bed.
Where should the dying members rest,

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

And showed our feet the way;

Up to the Lord his saints shall fly,
mf At the great rising day.
f" 6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,

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

Ye saints! ascend the skies.

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HYMN 634, C. M. 634

Silent Submission.
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1
PEACE 1, it is the Lord Jehovah's band,

That blasts our joys in death, -
Changes the visage once so dear,

And gathers back our breath.
2 'Tis he, the Potentate supreme

Of all the worlds above,
Whose steady counsels wisely rule,

Nor from their purpose move.

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3 ’T is he, whose justice might demand

Our souls a sacrifice;
Yet scatters, with unwearied hand,

A thousand rich supplies.
4 Our covenant God and Father he,

In Christ, our bleeding Lord;
Whose grace can heal the bursting heart,

With one reviving word.
5 Silent, we own Jehovah's naine,-

We kiss thy chastening liand;
And yield our comforts and our life,

To thy supreme command.

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HYMN 635, C. M. 635

Triumph over Death. mp

1 (REAT God! I own the sentence just,
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And nature must decay ;
P I yield my body to the dust,

To dwell with fellow clay.
2 Yet faith rray triumph o'er the grave,

And trainple on the tombs; mf My Jesus, my Redeemer, lives,

My God, my Saviour, comes.
f 3 The mighty Conqueror shall appear,

High on a royal seat;
And death, the last of all his foes,

Lie vanquished at his feet.
mf 4 Then shall I see thy lovely face,

With strong, iminortal eyes ;
And feast upon thine unknown grace,

With pleasure and surprise.

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HYMN 636, 12s and 118. 636

A Funeral Hymn. 1 THOT art gone to the grave--but we will not

deplore thee, тр Though sorrows and darkness encompass the

tomb; The Saviour has passed through its portals before

thee, And the lamp of his love is thy guide through

the gloom.

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2 Thou art gone to the grave-we no longer be

hold thee, Nor tread the rough paths of the world by

thy side; But the wide arms of mercy are spread to en

fuld thee, And sinners may hope, since the Sinless hati

died. 3 Thou art gone to the grave--and, its mansion

forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in doubt lingered

long; But the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on

thy waking, And the sound thou didst hear was the se

raphim's song. 4 Thou art gone to the grave-but we will not

deplore thee, Since God was thy ransom, thy guardian, thy

guide; He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore

thee; And death hath no sting, since the Saviour

hatli died.

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HYMN 637, C. M. 637

Victory over Death.
1
OTO
H! for an overcoming faith,

To cheer my dying hours ;
mf To triumph o'er the monster, death,

And all his frightful powers !
2 Joyful, with all the strength I have,

My quivering lips should sing, -
“Where is thy boasted vict'ry, grave?

O deathil where is thy sting?"
3 If sin be pardoned, I'm secure;

Death has no sting beside :
The law gives sin its damning power,

But Christ, iny Ranso:n, died.
4 Now to the God of victory
mf Immortal thanks be paid ;-

Who makes us conquerors, while we die,

Through Christ, our living Head.

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HYMN 638, C. M. 638

The Death of Children.
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1
YE mourning saints.: vluose streaming tears

Flow children dead,

Say not in transports of despair, p> That all your hopes are tied. P 2 While, cleaving to that darling dust,

In fond distress ye lie, mf

Rise, and with joy, and reverence, view

A heavenly parent nigh.
3 Though, your young branches torn away,

Like withered trunks ye stand;
With fairer verdure shall ye bloom,

Touched by the Almighty's hand.
4 “I'll give the mourner,” saith the Lord,

" In my own house a place;
No names of daughters and of sons

Could yield so bigh a grace.
5 " Transient and vain is every hope

A rising race can give;
mf In endless honor and delight,

My children all shall live.”
6 We welcome, Lord! those rising tears,

Through which thy face we see; [hearts,
And bless those wounds which, through our

Prepare a way for thee.

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HYMN 639, L. M. 639

The Christian's parting Hour. dol 1 LOW sweet the hour of closing day,

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And the broad sun's retiring lay

Sheds a mild lustre o'er the scene!
2 Such is the Christian's parting hour,-

So peacefully he sinks to rest;
When faitli, endured from heaven with power,

Strengthens and cheers liis languid breast. 3 Mark but that radiance of liis eye,

That smile upon his wasted cheek!
Tliey tell us of his glory nigli,

In language which no tongue can speak.

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4 A beam from heaven is sent to clieer

The pilgrim on liis gloomy road;
And angels are attending near,

To bear him to their briglit abode.
5 Who would not wish to die, like those

Whom God's own Spirit deigns to bless ;
To sink into that soft repose,

Then wake to perfect happiness?

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HYMN 640, C. M. 640

The Christian's Farewell.
1
YE

E golden lamps of leaven! farewell,
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With all your feeble light;

Farewell, thon ever-changing moon! тр Pale empress of the night.

2 And thon, refulgent orb of day! mf In brighter flames arrayed,

My soul, that springs beyond thy sphere,

No more demands tly aid.
3 Ye stars are but the shining dust

Of my divine abode,
< The pavement of those heavenly courts,
mf

Where I shall see my God.
4 The Father of eternal light

Shall there his beams display ;
Nor shall one moment's darkness mix,

With that invaried day.
5 No more the drops of piercing grief

Shall swell into mine eyes ;
Nor the meridian sun decline

Amid those brighter skies.
6 There all the millions of his saints

Shall in one song unite;
And each the bliss of all shall view,

With infinite delight.

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HYMN 641, C. M. 641

The Moment after Death.
1
IN

vain the faney strives to paint
The moment after deathi, -
The glories that surround a saint,

When yielding up his breath.

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