ΙΛΙ

mj

5 God of our fathers! hear,-
Thou everlasting Friend!-
While we, as on life's utmost verge,
Our souls to thee commend.

6 Of all the pious dead

624

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May we the footsteps trace,
Till with them, in the land of light,
We dwell before thy face.

HOW

HYMN 624, L. M..

Death of the Righteous.

OW blest the righteous when he dies,-
When sinks a weary soul to rest!
How mildly beam the closing eyes!
How gently heaves th' expiring breast!

2 So fades a summer cloud away;

So sinks a gale when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day;

So dies a wave along the shore.

3 A holy quiet reigns around,

A calm which life nor death destroys;
Nothing disturbs that peace profound,
Which his unfettered soul enjoys.

4 Farewell, conflicting hopes and fears!
Where lights and shades alternate dwell:
How bright th' unchanging morn appears!
Farewell, inconstant world! farewell!
5 Life's duty done, as sinks the clay,

625

Light from its load the spirit flies; While heaven and earth combine to say,"How blest the righteous when he dies!"

HYMN 625, 8s and 7s.

The dying Saint comforted.

mf 1 HAPPY soul! thy days are ending,

All thy mourning days below:
Go, the angel guards attending-
To the sight of Jesus go!
Waiting to receive thy spirit,

Lo! the Saviour stands above;
Shows the fullness of his merit-
Reaches out the crown of love.

ΠΑΛΙ

mp

mf

2 For the joy he sets before thee,
Bear a momentary pain;
Die-to live a life of glory;
Suffer-with thy Lord to reign:
Struggle, through thy latest passion,
To thy dear Redeemer's breast,--
To his uttermost salvation,-

626 aff 1

To his everlasting rest.

WHE

HYMN 626, 7s and 4.

Support in Death.

WHEN the vale of death appears,
Faint and cold this mortal clay,-
Kind Forerunner! soothe my fears,
Light me through the darksome way;
Break the shadows,-

Usher in eternal day.

2 Upward from this dying state,
Bid my waiting soul aspire;
Open thou the crystal gate;
To thy praise attune my lyre:
Then, triumphant,

I will join th' immortal choir.

3 When the mighty trumpet, blown,
Shall the judgment dawn proclaim,
From the central, burning throne,
Mid creation's final flame,
With the ransomed,—

627

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۱۸۷

m.f

Thou wilt own my worthless name.

HYMN 627, C. M.

Mourning with Hope.

THAT once-loved form, now cold and dead,
Each mournful thought employs ;

And nature weeps, her comforts fled,
And withered all her joys.

2 Hope looks beyond the bounds of time,-
When what we now deplore

Shall rise, in full immortal prime,

And bloom to fade no more.

3 Then cease, fond nature! cease thy tears,
Religion points on high;

mf

628

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There everlasting spring appears,
And joys that cannot die.

HYMN 628, L. M.

Death of an Infunt.

fades the lovely, blooming flower,Frail smiling solace of an hour! So soon our transient comforts fly, And pleasure only blooms to die. aff 2 Is there no kind,-no lenient art, To heal the anguish of the heart? Spirit of grace! be ever nigh, Thy comforts are not made to die. 3 Bid gentle patience smile on pain, Till dying hope shall live again; Hope wipes the tear from sorrow's eye, And faith points upward to the sky.

mf

629

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HOW

HYMN 629, C. M.

The Grave peaceful.

OW still and peaceful is the grave, Where,-life's vain tumults past,— Th' appointed house, by heaven's decree, Receives us all at last!

2 The wicked there from troubling cease,
Their passions rage no more;

And there, the weary pilgrim rests
From all the toils he bore.

3 All, leveled by the hand of death,
Lie sleeping in the tomb,

630

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Till God, in judgment, call them forth,
To meet their final doom.

MY

HYMN 630, C. M.

Prospect of Death.

Y soul! come, meditate the day,
And think, how near it stands,
When thou must quit this house of clay,
And fly to unknown lands.

2 And you, my eyes! look down and view
The hollow gaping tomb;

This gloomy prison waits for you,
Whene'er the summons come.

aff 3 Oh! could we die with those that die,
And place us in their stead;
Then would our spirits learn to fly,
And converse with the dead.

mf

VIVA |

V

mf

Then should we see the saints above,
In their own glorious forms,

And wonder, why our souls should love
To dwell with mortal worms.

5 We should almost forsake our clay,
Before the summons come,

631

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mf

And pray, and wish our souls away,
To their eternal home.

HYMN 631, 8s and 7s.

The Spirit of a dying Christian.

PARTING soul! the flood awaits thee,

And the billows round thee roar;
Yet rejoice, the holy city

Stands on yon celestial shore.

2 There, are crowns and thrones of glory,
There, the living waters glide;

There, the just in shining raiment,
Standing by Immanuel's side.

mf 3 Linger not,—the stream is narrow,
Though its cold dark waters rise;
He, who passed the flood before thee,
Guides thy path to yonder skies.

632

HYMN 632, L. M.

Death disarmed.

1 WHY should we start, and fear to die? What tim❜rous worms we mortals are !

Death is the gate of endless joy,

And yet we dread to enter there.

2 The pains, the groans, the dying strife,
Fright our approaching souls away;
Still we shrink back again to life,
Fond of our prison and our clay.

3 Oh! if my Lord would come and meet,
My soul would stretch her wings in haste,

Fly fearless through death's iron gate,
Nor feel the terrors as she passed.

4 Jesus can make a dying bed

633

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dol

P

VIVRE

Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on his breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there,

HYMN 633, C. M.

Comfort in the Death of Friends.

WHY

HY do we mourn departing friends,
Or shake at death's alarms?

'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends,
To call them to his arms.

2 Are we not tending upward too,
As fast as time can move?

Nor should we wish the hours more slow,
To keep us from our love.

3 Why should 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 the saints he blessed,
And softened every bed:

Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying Head?

5 Thence he arose, ascended high,
And showed our feet the way;
Up to the Lord his saints shall fly,
At the great rising day.

f" 6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise;

634

Awake, ye nations under ground!
Ye saints! ascend the skies.

HYMN 634, C. M.

Silent Submission.

1 PEACE! 't is the Lord Jehovah's hand,
That blasts our joys in death,-

Changes the visage once so dear,
And gathers back our breath.

2 'Tis he, the Potentate supreme
Of all the worlds above,

Whose steady counsels wisely rule,
Nor from their purpose move.