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3 Their holy souls, at length releas'l,

To heav'n shall take their flight; There to enjoy eternal rest,

And infinite delight.
4 They drop each load as they ascend,

And quit this world of wo;
Their labours with their life shall end,

Their rest no period know.
$ Their conflicts with their busy foes

For evermore shall cease;
None shall their happiness oppose,

Nor interrupt their peace.
6 But bright rewards shall recompense

Their faithful service here;
And perfect love shall banish thence

Each gloomy doubt and fear.”

L. M. 723.

The grave. Job iii, 17. 1 THE grave is now a favour'd spot,

To saints who sleep, in Jesus bless'd; For there the wicked trouble not,

And there the weary are at rest. 2 At rest in Jesus' faithful arms;

At rest as in a peaceful bed;
Secure from all the dreadful storms,

Which round this sinful world are spread 3 Thrice happy souls, who're gone

before
To that inheritance divine.!
T'hey labour, sorrow, sigh no more,

But bright in endless glory shine.
Å Then let our mournful tears be dry,

Or in a gentle measure flow;
We hail them happy in the sky,
And joyful wait our call to ga

5. DEATH OF THE WICKED.

1

L. M. 724. The Death of the Sinner and the Saint WHAT scenes of horror and of dread

Await the sinner's dying bed! Death's terrors all appear in sight,

Presages of eternal night.
2 His sins in dreadful order rise,

And fill his soul with sad surprise;
Mount Sinai's thunder stuns his ears,

And not one ray of hope appears.
3 Tormenting pangs distract his breast;

Where'er he turns he finds no rest:
Death strikes the blow; he groans and cries,

And, in despair and horror dies.
* Not so the heir of heavenly bliss:-

His soul is fill'd with conscious peace;
A steady faith subdues his fear!

He sees the happy Canaan near. 5 His mind is tranquil and serene;

No terrors in his looks are seen;
His Saviour's smile dispels the gloom,}

And smooths his passage to the tomb.
6 Lord! make my faith and love sincere,

My judgment sound, my conscience clear
And, when the toils of life are past,
May I be found in peace at last.

C. M. 725.

Death dreadful or delightful. DEATH! 'uis a melancholy day

To those that have no God, When the poor soul is forc'd away

To seek her last abode. 8 In vain to heaven she lifts her eyes But guilt, a heavy chain,

1

Still drags hier downward from the skies

To darkness, fire, and pain.
3 Awake, and mourn, ye heirs of hell,

Let stubborn sinner's fear;
You must be driv'n from earth, and dwell

A long for ever there.
& See how the pit gapes wide for you,

And fashes in your face! And thou, my soul, look downwards too,

And sing recovering grace. 5 Ile is a God of boundless love

That promis'd heaven to me,
And taught my thoughts to soar above,

Where happy spirits be.
6 Prepare me, Lord, for thy right hand,

Then come the joyful day,
Come, death, and some celestial band,
To bear my soul away.

C. M. 726.

The Death of a Sinner. 1 My thoughts on awful subjects roll,

Damnation and the dead: What horrors seize the guilty soul

Upon a dying bed!
2 Lingering about these mortal shores

She makes a long delay,
Till like a flood, with rapid force,

Death sweeps the wretch away.
3 Then swift and dreadful she descenda

Down to the fiery coast,
Amongst abominable fiends,

Herselt a frightful ghost.
There endless crowds of sinners lie;

And darkness makes their chains;
l'ortur’dl with keen despair they cry, ,
Yet wait for fiercer pains.

S Not all their anguish and their blood

l'or their old guilt atones, Nor the compassions of a Goil

Shall hearken to their groans.
6 Amazing grace, that kept my breath,

Nor bid my soul remove,
Till I had learn’d my Saviour's death,

And well ensur'd his love!

RESURRECTION.

1

NO.

727. (498.) L. M.

I'll repine at death no more;

But, calm and cheerful, will resign To the cold dungeon of the grave,

These dying, with’ring limbs of mine. 2 Let worms devour my wasting flesh,

And crumble all my bones to dust; My God shall raise my frame anew

At the revival of the just. Break, sacred morning! through the skies,

And usher in that glorious day: Come quickly, Lord! cut short the hours:

Thy lingʻring wheels, how long they stay, flaste, then, upon the wings of love,

Rouse all the pious sleeping clay. That we may join in heav'nly joys,

And sing the triumph of the day.

728.

(497.)

L. M. 1 W!

THAT sinners value, I resign:

Lord! 'tis enough that thou art mine! I shall behold thy blissful face, And stand complete in righteousness.

2 This life's a dream, an empty show;

But the bright world, to which I go,
Hath joys substantial and sincere:

When shall I wake and find me there! 3 O glorious hour! O blest abode!

I shall be near and like my God;
And flesh and sin no more control
The sacred pleasures of the soul.
My flesh shall slumber in the ground,
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound;
Then burs: the chains with swee: surprise
And in my Saviour's imago risca,

C. M.

Hope in the Resurrection. I THROUGH sorrows night and danger's pats We soldiers of an injur'd King

Are marching to the tomb. 2 There, when the turmoil is no more,

And all our powers decay, Our cold remains in solitude

Shall sleep the years away. 3 Our labours done, securely laid

In this our last retreat, Unheeded o'er our silent dust

The storms of life shall beat.

729.

Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane,

The vital spark sball lie,
For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rivo

To seek its kindred sky.
5 These ashes too, this little dust,

Our Father's care shall keep, Till the last angel rise, and break The long

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