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2 The pains, the groans, and dying strife,
Fright our approaching souls away ;
Fond of our prison and our clay.
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
Feel soft as downy pillows are,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.
HYMN 440. C. M. 
Comfort under Bereavements.
Or shake at death's alarms ?
To call them to his arms.
As fast as time can move ?
To keep us from our Love.
Their bodies to the tomb ? There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
And left a long perfume. 4 Thence he arose, ascended high,
And showed our feet the way ;
Up to the Lord our souls shall fly
At the great rising day. 5 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise ; Awake, ye nations under ground;
Ye saints, ascend the skies.
HYMN 441. L. P. M. 
On the Death of Friends. 1 0, God of my salvation, hear My nightly groans, my daily prayer,
That still employ my wasting breath : My soul, declining to the grave, Implores thy sovereign power to save
From dark despair and gloomy death. 2 Thy hand lies heavy on my soul, And waves of sorrow o'er me roll,
While dust and silence spread the gloom : My friends beloved, in happier days, The dear companions of my ways,
Descend around me to the tomb.
Or to some thronged assembly go;
The change renews my piercing wo. 4 My friends are gone, my comforts fled, The sad remembrance of the dead
Recalls my wandering thoughts to mourn ;
But, through each melancholy day,
Imploring still thy kind return.
HYMN 442. C. M. [b or #]
Human Frailty and divine Support.
Nor death nor danger fear;
What feeble things we are.
And flourish bright and gay,
And fades the grass away.
And dies if one be gone ;
Should keep in tune so long !
The God that built us first ;
That reared us from the dust. 5 While we have breath, or use our tongues,
Our Maker we'll adore :
Or they would breathe no more.
HYMN 443. S. M. [b or #]
Comfort in Sickness and Death. 1 WHEN sickness shakes the frame,
Each dazzling pleasure flies;
Phantoms of bliss no more obscure
Our long-deluded eyes.
When death his sceptre shows,
Of complicated woes.
Shall crumble into dust;
On nature's God to trust.
On his all-gracious God,
every frown may comfort find,
And kiss the chastening rod. 5 Nor him shall death alarm;
On heaven his soul relies,
And with composure dies.
HYMN 444. L. M. 
Blessed are they that mourn. 1 DeEm not that they are blest alone,
Whose days a peaceful tenor keep; The God, who loves our race, has shown
A blessing for the eyes that weep. 2 The light of smiles shall fill again
The lids that overflow with tears,
Are earnests of serener years.
3 O there are days of sunny rest
For every dark and troubled night ; Grief may abide an evening guest,
But joy shall come with early light : 4 For God hath marked each anguished day,
And numbered every secret tear ; And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay
For all his children suffer here.
HYMN 445. H. M. [b or #]
Sorrow and Consolation.
Is all this world bestows !
And void of sweet repose !
More lasting and more sweet,
With comforts more replete.
Which overcomes their fear;
When death approaches near :
come, my angel, come, Bear me to my eternal home.