Page images


Ye living men! come view the ground,

Where you must shortly lie. 2.4 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." af 3 Great God! is this our certain doom fo.

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;
Thien, when we drop this dying flesh,

We'll rise above the sky.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

HYMN 644, s. M. 644

Death and the Resurrection.
1 ND must this body die?-

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.
5 Dear Lord! accept the praise

Of these our humble songs;
Till tunes of nobler sound we raise,

With our immortal tongues.

[ocr errors]


HYMN 645, S. L. M.
The Death Bed of the Righteous.
HIS place is holy ground;

World! with thy cares, away!



[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]

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!-life so sweetly ceased to be,

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

Rivers should swell our eyes ;
Could sighs recall the spirit fled,

We would not quench our sighs,
Till love relumed this 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.

[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors]

HYMN 646, C. M. 646

Funeral. тр

ENEATH oux feet, and o'er our hea i,

Is equal warning given;
Beneath us lie the countless dead,

Above us, is the heaven.
2 Death rides on every passing breeze,

And lurks in every flower;
Each season has its own disease,

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

Of youth's soft cheek, decay, тр

And fate descend, in sudden night,

On manhood's middle day..
4. Our 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 ?




5 Turn, mortal! turn; 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.

[ocr errors][merged small]


HYMN 647, C. M. 647

Death and Eternity. mp

STOOP down, my thoughts that used to rise,

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 !
3 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,
mf It mounts, triumphant there :-

Or devils plunge it down to hell,

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

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

To bear it 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 dust.

[ocr errors]

HYMN 648, L. M. 648

Prayer of the dying Christian.
mp 1 NENTLY, my Saviour! let me down,

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

E’en till my last expiring breath. .


[merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

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 nama 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 louder notes than angels sing, -
High glories to Immanuel's grace, --

My God, my Saviour, and my King!


[merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small]




HYMN 649, L. M. 649

Mourning with Submission.
1 HE God of love will sure indulge

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,

Our Rock, our Portion and our Friend;
And on thy covenant love and truth,

Onr sinking souls shall still depend.

[ocr errors]



HYMN 650, C. M.
The Death of a Youth.


HEN blooming youth is snatched away,

Our hearts the mournful tribute pay,

That pity must demand.

[ocr errors]

mp 2 While pity prompts the rising sigh,

Oh! may this truth, impressed > With awful power,—“I too must die!"

Sink deep in every breast. mp

3 Let this vain world engage no more; P

Behold the gaping toinb!

It bids us seize the present hour,тр

To-morrow death may come. mf 4 Oh! let us fly-to Jesus fly,

Whose powerful arm can save;
Then shall our hopes ascend on high,

And triumph o'er the grave.
5 Great God! thy sovereign grace impart,

With cleansing, healing power:

This only can prepare the heart, mp

For death's surprising hour.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

HYMN 651, C. M. 651

Death and the Resurrection. тр


THROUGH sorrow's night, and danger’s path,
We, soldiers of an injured King,

Are marching to the tomb.
2 There, when the turmoil is no more,

Aná all our powers decay,
Our cold remains, in solitude,

Shall sleep the years away.
3 Our labors done, securely laid

In this our last retreat,
Unheeded, o'er our silent dust,

The storms of life shall beat.
4 Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane,

The vital spark shall lie;

For, o'er life's wreck, that spark shall rise
molestie To seek its kindred sky.
5 These ashes too,--this little dust,-

Our Father's care shall keep,
Till the last angel rise, and break

The long and dreary sleep.
dot 6 Then love's soft dew, o'er every eye,

Shall shed its mildest rays,

| Ле

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]
« PreviousContinue »