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4 Those eyes, so long in darkness veil'd,

Must wake the Judge to see,
And ev'ry word, and ev'ry thought,

Must pass his scrutiny.
5 Oh, may I in the Judge behold

My Saviour and my Friend ;
And far beyond the reach of death,

With all his saints ascend.

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The Tolling Bell.
O FT as the bell, with solemn toll,

U Speaks the departure of a soul,
Let each one ask himself, “ Am I
Prepar'd, should I be call'd to die?"
2 Only this frail and fleeting breath
Preserves me from the jaws of death ;
Soon as it fails, at once I'm gone,
And plung'd into a world unknown.
3 Then, leaving all I lov'd below,
To God's tribunal I must go ;
Must hear the Judge pronounce my fate,
And fix my everlasting state.
4 LORD JESUS ! help me now to flee,
And seek my hope alone in thee ;
Apply thy blood, thy Spirit give,
Subdue my sins, and let me live.
5 Then when the solemn bell I hear,
If sav'd from guilt, I need not fear ;
Nor would the thought distressing be,
Perhaps it next may toll for me.

6 Rather my spirit would rejoice,
And long and wish to hear thy voice :
Glad when it bids me earth resign,
Secure of heav'n, if thou art mine.

HYMN 356. C. M.

The Death of a Believer.
TN vain my fancy strives to paint
1 The moment after death;
The glories that surround a saint,

When yielding up his breath.
2 One gentle sigh his fetters breaks,

We scarce can say," he'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 hides the world of light. 4 Thus much (and this is all) we know,

Saints are completely blest ; Have done with sin, and care, and woe,

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

His face they always view ; Then let us followers be of them, That we may praise him too.

HYMN 357. 1. M.

The Death of Saints. OUR life how short! a groan, a sigh! U We live, and then begin to die; Death steals upon us while we're green, Behind us digs a grave unseen.

2 But Oh! how great a mercy this,
That death's a portal into bliss;
While yet the body's scarce undrest,
The soul ascends to heav'nly rest.
3 My soul! death swallows up thy fears,
My grave-clothes wipe away all tears;
Why should we fear this parting pain,
Who die, that we may live again?
4 Oh! how the resurrection light
Will clarify believers' sight;
How joyful will the saints arise,
And rub the dust from off their eyes!
5 My soul! my body I will trust,
With him who numbers ev'ry dust;
My Saviour faithfully will keep
His own-their death is but a sleep.

HYMN 358. L. M.
The Happiness of departing, and being with Christ.

Phil. i. 23.
TULE on the verge of life I stand,
vyand view the scene on either hand,
My spirit struggles with the clay,
And longs to wing its flight away.
2 Come, ye angelic guardians; come,
And lead the willing pilgrim home;
Ye know the way to Jesu's throne,
Source of my joys, and of your own.
3 The blissful interview, how sweet!
To fall transported at his feet;
Rais'd in his arms to view his face,
Thro' the whole beamings of his grace.

4 Yet, with these prospects full in sight,
I'll wait thy signal for my flight;
For, while thy service I pursue,
I find my heav'n begun below.

HYMN 359. C. M.
Victory over Death through Christ.

1 Cor. xv. 57. WWHEN death appears before my sight,

In all his dire array, Unequal to the dreadful fight,

My courage dies away. 2 But see my glorious Leader nigh!

My Lord, my Saviour lives : Before him death's pale terrors fly,

And my faint heart revives.
3 He left his dazzling throne above,

He met the tyrant s dart,
And (O amazing pow'r of love !)

Receiv'd it in his heart.
4 No more, O grim destroyer, boast

Thy universal sway;
To heav'n-born souls thy sting is lost,

Thy night is turn’d to day.
5 Lord, I commit my soul to thee,

Accept the sacred trust; Receive this noble part of me,

And watch my sleeping dust:
6 Till that illustrious morning come,

When all thy saints shall rise,
And, cloth'd in full immortal bloom,

Attend thee to the skies.

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HYMN 360. C. M.
The Death and Burial of a Saint.
NHY do we mourn departing friends?

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

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

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

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

Their bodies to the tomb ?
There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,

And left a long perfume.
4 The graves of all his saints he bless'd,

And soften'd ev'ry bed:
Where should the dying members rest,

But with the dying head?
5 Thence he arose, ascending high,

And show'd our feet the way; Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,

At the great rising day. 6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,

And bid our kindred rise ; Awake, ye nations under ground, Ye saints, ascend the skies.

HYMN 361. L. M. The Death of the Sinner and the Saint. P LAHAT scenes of horror and of dread,

V Await the singer's dying bed! Death's terrors all appear in sight, Presages of eternal night.

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