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P. 2 One gentle sigh the fetters breaks ;

We scarce can say, -"le's gone!"-
Before the willing spirit takes

Its mansion near the throne.
3 Faith strives--but all its efforts fail, -

To trace the spirit's flight;
No eye can pierce within the veil,

Which liides the world of light.
4 Thus much-and 't is enough to know-
mf Saints are completely blest;

Have done with sin, and care, and woe,

And with their Saviouu rest.
mf 5 On harps of gold, they praise his name,

And see him fice to face :
Oh! let us catch the heavenly flame,

And live in his embrace.

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HYMN 642, C. M. 642

The earthly and heavenly House.
1 TIERE is a house not made with hands,

Eternal, and on ligh;
And here my spirit, waiting, stands,

Till God shall bid it fly.
2 Shortly this prison of my clay

Must be dissolved and fall;

Then, O my soul! with joy obey my

Thy heavenly Father's call.
3 'T is lie, by his almighty grace,

Who forms thee fit for heaven;
And, as an earnest of the place,

Hatlı his own Spirit given.
4 We walk by faith of joys to come;

Faith lives upon his word;
But, while the body is our home,

We're absent from the Lord.
Ő 'T is pleasant to believe thy grace,

But we had rather see;
We would be absent from the flesh,

And present, Lord! with thee.

HYMN 643, C. M. 643

A Voice from the Tomb.
P

1
HA
ARK! from the tombs a doleful sound !
My ears! attend the cry-

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“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, P

Must lie as low as ours."
aft 3 Great God! is this our certain doom?

And are we still secure ?
Still walking downward 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.

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HYMN 644, s. M. 644

Death and the Resurrection.
P 1

-
This mortal frame decay ?
And must these active limbs of mine

Lie mouldering in the clay?
2 God, my Redeemer, lives,

And, often from the skies,
Looks down and watches all my dust,

Till he shall bid it rise. mf 3 Arrayed in glorious grace,

Shall these vile bodies shine;
And every shape, and every face,

Look heavenly and divine.
4 These lively hopes we owe

To Jesus' dying love;
We would adore his grace below,

And sing his power above.
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5 Dear Lord! accept the praise

Of these our humble songs;

Till tunes of nobler sound we raise, f

With our immortal tongues.

HYMN 645, S. L. M.
The Death Bed of the Righteous.

645

1 TAIS place is holy ground;

P

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Silence and darkness reign around :

But lo! the break of day!
What bright and sudden dawn appears,

To shine upon this scene of tears!
2 Behold the bed of death,

This pale and lovely clay !
Heard ye the sobs of parting breath?

Marked ye the eyes' last ray?-
No!- lite so sweetly ceased to be,

It lapsed in immortality.
3 Could tears revive the dead,

Rivers should swell our eyes ;
Could siglis recall the spirit Hled,

We would not quench our sighs,
Till love relumed tliis altered mien,

And all th' embodied soul were seen.
4 Bury the dead, -and weep,

In stillness, o'er the loss;
Bury the dead, -in Christ they sleep,

Who bore on earth his cross;
And, from the grave, their dust shall rise,
In his own image, to the skies.

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HYMN 643, C. M. 646

Funeral. тр

1
BE
AENEATH our feet, and o’er our head,

Is equal warning given;
Beneatli ng lie the countless dead, -

Above us, is the heaven.
2 Death rides on every passing breeze,
And luks in every flower

' ;
Each season has its own disease,

Its peril-every hour.
3 Onr eyes have seen the rosy light

Of youth's soft cheek, decay,
mp And fate descend, in sudden night,

On manhood's middle day.
4 Qur eyes have seen the steps of age

Halt feebly to the tomb;
And yet shall earth our hearts, engage,

And dreams of days to come ?

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mp 5 Turn, mortal! torn; thy danger know;

Where'er thy foot can tread,
The earth rings hollow from below,

And warns thee of her dead.
6 Turn, Christian! turn; thy soul apply

To truths divinely given;
The forms, which underneath thee lie,

Shall live, for hell, or heaven.

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647

HYMN 647, C. M.

Death and Eternity. тр 1

down, my thoughts! that used to rise,
Converse a while with death ;
Think-how a gasping mortal lies,

And pants away his breath.
2 His quivering lip hangs feebly down,

His pulse is faint and few;
Then, speechless, with a doleful groan,

He bids the world adieu !
mp3 But Oh! the soul that never dies !

At once it leaves the clay ;
Ye thoughts! pursue it where it flies,

And track its wondrous way :
4 Up to the courts where angels dwell,
my It mounts, triumphant there:

Or devils plunge it down to hell,

In infinite despair.
P 5 And must this body faint and die?
тр

And must this soul remove ?
Oh! for some guardian angel nigh,

To bear safe above !
6 Jesus ! to thy dear faithful hand,

My naked soul I trust;
And my flesh waits for thy command,
To drop into my

đust.

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648

HYMN 648, D. M.
Prayer of the dying Christian.

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To slumber in the arms of death :
I rest my soul on thee alone,

E'en till my last expiring breath.

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2 Soon will the storm of life be o’er,

And I shall enter endless rest:
There I shall live to sin no more,

And bless thy name for ever blest.
3 Bid me possess sweet peace within;

Let childlike patience keep my heart;
Then shall I feel my heaven begin,

Before my spirit hence depart.
4 Hasten thy chariot, God of love!

And fetch me from this world of woe;
I long to reach those joys above,

And bid farewell to all below.
5 There shall my raptured spirit raise

Still londer notes than angels sing, -
Higlı gleries to Immanuel's grace, -

My God, my Saviour, and my King!

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649

HYMN 649, L. M.

Mourning with Submission. m

1 TTE God of love will sure indulge P>

The flowing tear, the heaving sigh, тр When righteous persons fall around, >

When tender friends and kindred die. mp 2 Yet not one anxious, murm’ring thought

Should with our mourning passions blend; Nor would our bleeding hearts forget

Th’ almighty, ever-living Friend.
3 Beneath a numerous train of ills,

Our feeble flesh and heart may fail;
Yet shall our hope in thee, our God,

O’er every gloomy fear prevail.
4 Our Father God! to thee we look,
mf Our Rock, our Portion and our Friend;

And on tlıy covenant love and truth,

Our sinking souls shall still depend.

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HYMN 650, C. M. 650

The Death of a Youth.
P 1 WHEN Llooming youth is snatched away,

By deatli's resistless hand,
Our hearts the mournful tribute pay,

That pity must demand.

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