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There, sweet be my rest, till he bid me arise
To hail him in triumph descending the skies.

4 Who, who would live alway, away from his God; Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode,

Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains, And the noontide of glory eternally reigns: 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!

XI. DEATH.

HYMN 188.

Job. xiv. 1, 2. 5, 6.

1 FEW are thy days, and full of wo,

O 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.

HYMN 189.

(C. M.)

(C. M.)

1 HARK! 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?

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Job xiv. 11-14.

1 THE 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 0 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.

HYMN 191.

1 VITAL spark of heav'nly flame!
Quit, O quit this mortal frame!
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
Oh! 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!

What is this absorbs me quite;
Steals 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!
Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring!
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O grave, where is thy victory!
O death, where is thy sting!

(8. M)

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1 WHEN, rising from the bed of death,
O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,
I see my Maker, face to face;
Oh! 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,
Oh! 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.

HYMN 193.

1 AND 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

3

Shall this dread sentence sound;

And through the num'rous guilty throng
Spread black despair around?

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 heav'n 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!

(C. M.)

(S. M.)

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.

HYMN 194.

1 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:

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 heav'n and earth shall pass away,
And thus prepare to meet him.

HYMN 195.

St. Luke xiii. 24-27.

1 SEEK, 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:

(IL 7)

(IIL 1.)

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1 OH! where shall rest be found! Rest for the weary soul:

"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:
Oh! what eternal horrors hang
Around the second death!

5 Lord God of truth and grace,
Teach us that death to shun,
Lest we be driven from thy face,
For evermore undone.

HYMN 197.

2 Corinthians iv. 18.

1 HOW long shall earth's alluring toys Detain our hearts and eyes,

Regardless of immortal joys,

And strangers to the skies!

2 These transient scenes will soon decay,
They fade upon the sight;

And quickly will their brightest day
Be lost in endless night.

(C. M.)

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