HYMN 83. 1 2 3 “Come, for all things are now ready." each soul salvation see, 4 5 1 HYMN 84. In deep humility, I will remember thee. My bread from heaven shall be; And thus remember thee. 2 3 Can I Gethsemane forget ? Or there thy conflict see, And not remember thee? 4 When to the cross I turn mine eyes, And gaze on Calvary, I must remember thee. 5 Remember thee, and all thy pains, And all thy love to me? Will I remember thee. 6 And when these failing lips grow dumb, And mind and memory flee, Jesus, remember me. 1 HYMN 85. On Jewish altars slain, Or wash away the stain. 2 But Christ, the heavenly Lamb, Takes all our sins away; And richer blood than they. 3 My faith would lay her hand On that dear head of thine, And there confess my sin. 4 My soul looks back to see The burden thou didst bear, And hopes her guilt was there. To see the curse remove; And sing his dying love. 5 HYMN 86. The love of Christ. 1 2 3 PLUNG’D in a gulf of dark despair, We wretched sinners lay, Or spark of glimmering day. Beheld our helpless grief; He came to our relief. With joyful haste he fled, among the dead. Their lasting silence break; The Saviour's praises speak ! Strike all your harps of gold; His loye can ne'er be told. 4 5 HYMNS. 1 2 HYMN 87. Which before the cross I spend, From the sinner's dying friend. Low before his cross to lie; Floating in his languid eye. my tears his feet I'd bathe; Life deriving from his death. In all need to Jesus go; And himself more deeply know. 3 4 FUNERAL. HYMN 88. The tolling Bell. 1 OFT as the bell, with solemn toll, Speaks the departure of a soul, • Prepar'd, should I be called to die ?” 2 Only this frail and fleeting breath Preserves me from the jaws of death; 3 Then leaving all I lov'd below, To God's tribunal I must go; And fix my everlasting state. And place my hope alone in thee; Subdue my sins, and let me live. If sav’d from guilt, I need not fear; Perhaps it next may toll for me. 6 Rather, my spirit would rejoice; And long and wish to hear thy voice; HYMN 89. The warning of Mortality. 1 THAT awful hour will soon appear, Swift on the wings of time it flies ; Will vanish from my closing eyes. 2 Death calls my friends, my neighbours hence, And none resist the fatal dart; heart? 3 Think, O my soul, how much depends On the short period of a day: Be negligently thrown away? With heavenly ardour, grace divine; |