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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 lie,

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

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

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

To thy supreme command.

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HYMN 635, C. M. 635

Triumph over Death.
1 /REAT God! I own the sentence justa

U And nature must decay;
P I yield my body to the dust,

To dwell with fellow clay.
2 Yet faith may 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, immortal eyes ;
And feast upon thine unknown grace,

With pleasure and surprise.

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HYMN 636, 12s and 11s. 636

A Funeral Hymn. 1 THOU art gone to the grave—but we will not

deplore thee, mp

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.



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

fold thee, And sinners may hope, since the Sinlees hath

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 or

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

hath died.

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HYMN 637, C. M. 637

Victory over Death.
OT! for an overcoming faith,

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 death! 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, my Ransom, died.
4 Now to the God of victory

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. P 1 YE mourning saints,! whose streaming tears

children Say not in transports of despair, p> That all your hopes are fled.

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 th’ 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 high 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 OW sweet the hour of closing day,

When all is peaceful and serene;
And the broad sun's retiring ray

Sheds a mild lustre o'er the scene! 2 Such is the Christian's parting hour,-p> So peacefully he sinks to rest;

When faith, endued from heaven with power,

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

That smile upon his wasted cheek!

They tell us of his glory nigh, mt In language which no tongue can speak.


4 A beam from heaven is sent to cheer

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

To bear him to their bright 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 golden lamps of heaven! farewell, P

With all your feeble light;

Farewell, thou ever-changing moon! mp

Pale empress of the night. 2 And thou, 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 unvaried day.
5 No more the drops of piercing grief

Shall swell into mine eyes;
Nor the meridian sun decline

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

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

With infinite delight.

HYMN 641, C. M. 641

The Moment after Death.
1 TN vain the fancy strives to paint

The moment after death,--
The glories that surround a saint,

When yielding up his breath.

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2 One gentle sigh the 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 fliglit;
No eye can pierce within the veil,

* Which hides 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 Saviour rest.
my 5 On harps of gold, they praise his name,

And see him face 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 THERE is a house not made with hauds,

Eternal, and on high;
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 he, by his almighty grace,

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

Hath 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.
5 'T is pleasant to believe thy grace,

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

And present, Lord! with thee.

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HYMN 643, C. M.
A Voice from the Tomb.

643 HARK! from the tombs a doleful sound !




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