5 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet,
Their Saviour and brethren, transported to greet;
While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll,
And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul!

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F

XI. DEATH.

HYMN 188.

Job xiv. 1, 2. 5, 6.

EW, are thy days, and full of wo,
0 man, of woman born!

Thy doom is written, "Dust thou art,
"To dust thou shalt return."

2 Behold the emblem of thy state
In flow'rs that bloom and die,
Or in the shadow's fleeting form
That mocks the gazer's eye.
3 Determin'd are the days that fly
Successive o'er thy head;

The number'd hour is on the wing
That lays thee with the dead.

4 Great God! afflict not, in thy wrath,
The short allotted span,

That bounds the few and weary days
Of pilgrimage to man.

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H

HYMN 189.

(C. M.)

(C. M.)

ARK! from the tombs a mournful sound:
Mine ears attend the cry;

“Ye living men, come view the ground
"Where you must shortly lie.

2" Princes, this clay must be your bed,
"In spite of all your tow'rs;

"The tall, the wise, the rev'rend head
"Must lie as low as ours."

3 Great God! is this our certain doom?
And are we still secure?

Still walking downward to the tomb,
And yet prepare no more?

4 Grant us the power of quick'ning grace
To raise our souls to thee,

That we may view thy glorious face
To all eternity.

'TH

HYMN 190.

Job xiv. 11-14.

HE mighty flood that rolls
Its torrents to the main,
Can ne'er recall its waters lost
From that abyss again:

2 So days, and years, and time,
Descending down to night,
Can thenceforth never more return
Back to the sphere of light:

3 And man, when in the grave,
Can never quit its gloom,
Until th' eternal morn shall wake
The slumber of the tomb.

4 O, may I find in death

A hiding-place with God,
Secure from wo and sin; till call'd
To share his bless'd abode!

5 Cheer'd by this hope, I wait,

Through toil, and care, and grief,
Till my appointed course is run,
And death shall bring relief.

V

HYMN 191.

VITAL spark of heavenly flame!
Quit, O quit this mortal frame!
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
O, the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.

2 Hark! they whisper! angels say,
Sister spirit, come away!

(S. M.)

What is this absorbs me quiteSteals my senses, shuts my sight, Drowns my spirit, draws my breath? Tell me, my soul, can this be death? 3 The world recedes, it disappears! Heaven opens on mine eyes! mine ears

1

With sounds seraphic ring!
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O grave, where is thy victory!
Ŏ death, where is thy sting!

XII. JUDGMENT.

HYMN 192.

(C. M.)

HEN, rising from the bed of death,
O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,

WH

I see my Maker, face to face;

O how shall I appear!

2 If yet, while pardon may be found,
And mercy may be sought,

My heart with inward horror shrinks,
And trembles at the thought;

3 When thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclos'd In majesty severe,

And sit in judgment on my soul,

O how shall I appear!

4 But thou hast told the troubled mind,
Who does her sins lament,

That faith in Christ's atoning blood
Shall endless wo prevent.

5 Then never shall my soul despair
Her pardon to procure,

Who knows thine only Son has died
To make that pardon sure.

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A

HYMN 193.

ND will the Judge descend?
And must the dead arise?
And not a single soul escape
His all-discerning eyes?

2 And from his righteous lips

Shall this dread sentence sound;

(S. M.)

And through the numerous guilty throng
Spread black despair around?

3" Depart from me, accurs'd,

"To everlasting flame,

"For rebel angels first prepar'd,
"Where mercy never came."

4 How will my heart endure
The terrors of that day:

When earth and heaven before his face
Astonish'd shrink away?

5 But, ere the trumpet shakes
The mansions of the dead,
Hark, from the gospel's cheering sound,
What joyful tidings spread!

6 Ye sinners, seek his grace,

Whose wrath ye cannot bear;
Fly to the shelter of his cross,
And find salvation there.

7 So shall that curse remove,

By which the Saviour bled;
And the last awful day shall pour
His blessings on your head.

'G

REAT God, what do I see and hear!
The end of things created!

The Judge of man I see appear,

On clouds of glory seated:

The trumpet sounds; the graves restore
The dead which they contain'd before:
Prepare, my soul, to meet him.

2 The dead in Christ shall first arise,
At the last trumpet's sounding,
Caught up to meet him in the skies,
With joy their Lord surrounding:
No gloomy fears their souls dismay,
His presence sheds eternal day

On those prepar'd to meet him. 3 But sinners, fill'd with guilty fears, Behold his wrath prevailing;

For they shall rise, and find their tears
And sighs are unavailing:

The day of grace is past and gone;
Trembling they stand before the throne,
All unprepar❜d to meet him.

4 Great God, what do I see and hear!
The end of things created!

'The Judge of man I see appear,
On clouds of glory seated:
Beneath his cross I view the day
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
And thus prepare to meet him.

1

HYMN 195.

St. Luke xiii. 24-27.

EEK, my

soul, the narrow gate,

Enter ere it be too late;

Many ask to enter there,

When too late to offer pray'r.

2 God from mercy's seat shall rise,
And for ever bar the skies:

Then, though sinners cry without,
He will say, "I know you not."
3 Mournfully will they exclaim-
Lord! we have profess'd thy name;
We have eat with thee, and heard
Heavenly teaching in thy word.
4 Vain, alas! will be their plea,
Workers of iniquity;

Sad their everlasting lot—
Christ will say, "I know you not."

XIII. ETERNITY.

HYMN 196.

WHERE shall rest be found!

Rest for the weary soul?—

(III. 1.)

(S. M.)

"Twere vain the ocean's depths to sound,

Or pierce to either pole.

2 The world can never give

The bliss for which we sigh:
"Tis not the whole of life to live,
Nor all of death to die.

3 Beyond this vale of tears

There is a life above,

Unmeasur❜d by the flight of years-
And all that life is love.

4 There is a death, whose pang
Outlasts the fleeting breath:

P