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4 Jesus can make a dying bed

Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on liis breast I lean my head,

And breathe my life out sweetly there.

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HYMN 633, C. M. 633

Comfort in the Death of Friends.
THY do we mourn departing friends,

Or shake at death's alarms?
'T is 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 on the tomb?
dol There, the dear fiesta 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,
mf At the great rising day.
f" 6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,

And bid our kindred rise;
Awake, ye nations under ground!

Ye saints! ascend the skies.


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HYMN 634, C. M. 634

Silent Submission.

PEACE 1, it is the Lord Jehovah's band,

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.

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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 he,

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

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

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

To thy supreme command.


HYMN 635, C. M. 635

Triumph over Death. mp

1 (REAT God! I own the sentence just,

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

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

With pleasure and surprise.


HYMN 636, 12s and 118. 636

A Funeral Hymn. 1 THOT art gone to the grave--but we will not

deplore thee, тр 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

fuld thee, And sinners may hope, since the Sinless hati

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 on

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

hatli died.




HYMN 637, C. M. 637

Victory over Death.
H! for an overcoming faith,

To cheer my dying hours ;
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 deathil 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, iny Ranso:n, died.
4 Now to the God of victory
mf 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.

YE mourning saints.: vluose streaming tears

Flow children dead,

Say not in transports of despair, p> That all your hopes are tied. P 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 the 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 bigh 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.


HYMN 639, L. M. 639

The Christian's parting Hour. dol 1 LOW sweet the hour of closing day,


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And the broad sun's retiring lay

Sheds a mild lustre o'er the scene!
2 Such is the Christian's parting hour,-

So peacefully he sinks to rest;
When faitli, endured from heaven with power,

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

That smile upon his wasted cheek!
Tliey tell us of his glory nigli,

In language which no tongue can speak.


4 A beam from heaven is sent to clieer

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

To bear him to their briglit 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.

E golden lamps of leaven! farewell,

With all your feeble light;

Farewell, thon ever-changing moon! тр Pale empress of the night.

2 And thon, 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,

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 invaried day.
5 No more the drops of piercing grief

Shall swell into mine eyes ;
Nor the meridian sun decline

Amid those brighter skies.
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.

vain the faney strives to paint
The moment after deathi, -
The glories that surround a saint,

When yielding up his breath.

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