2

3

263

MY

Y life's a narrow span,
A short uncertain day;
And if I reach the age of man,
It soon will pass away.

I may, for aught I know,

This hour the summons hear,
To call me where the wicked go,
Or where the saints appear.

Teach me, with all my heart,
Thy mercy to embrace;
May I from every sin depart,
In this, my time of grace.
264 Delay not Repentance.
10 'TIS a folly and a crime
To put religion by;

For now is the accepted time,
To-morrow we may die.

2 Our hearts grow harder every day,
And more depraved the mind;
The longer we neglect to pray,
The less we feel inclined.

3 Yet sinners trifle, young and old,
Until the dying day;

C. M.

Then they would give a world of gold
To have an hour to pray.

4 0 then, lest we should perish thus,
We would no longer wait;

For time will soon be past with us,
And death will fix our state.

265

THE

Frailty.

lilies of the field,
That quickly fade away,
May well to us a lesson yield,
For we are frail as they.

2 Just like an early rose,

I've seen an infant bloom:
But death, perhaps, before it blows,
Will lay it in the tomb.

S. M.

3 Then let us think on death,
Though we are young and gay;
For God, who gave our life and breath,
Can take them both away.

4 To God, who made them all,
Let children humbly cry;
And then, whenever death may call,
They'll be prepared to die.

SICKNESS.

266

1

Hope in Sickness.

'TIS sweet to rest in lively hope,

C. M.

That, when my change shall come
Angels will hover round my bed,
And waft my spirit home.

2 There shall my disembodied soul
Behold him, and adore;

Be with his likeness satisfied,
And grieve and sin no more.

3 Soon, too, my slumbering dust shall hear
The trumpet's quickening sound;
And, by my Saviour's power rebuilt,
At his right hand be found.

4 If such the views which grace unfolds,
Weak as it is below,

What raptures must the blest above,
In Jesus' presence, know.

267

1

For a sick Child.

ALMIGHTY God! I'm very ill,

L. M.

But cure me if it be thy will;

For thou canst take away my pain,
And make me strong and well again.

2 Let me be patient all the day,

And mind what those who nurse me say;
And grant that all I have to take

May do me good, for Jesus' sake.

268 Recovery from Sickness.

'I

C. M.

THANK the Lord who lives on high,
Who heard an infant pray;

And healed me that I should not die,
And took my pains away.

2 O let me love and serve thee, too,
As long as I shall live;

And every evil thing I do,
For Jesus' sake forgive.

269

10

THOU, before whose gracious throne
We bow our suppliant spirits down,

Regard our simple earnest prayer,
And make our teacher now thy care.

2 Prese ve thy servant from the grave;
Stretch out thine arm, O Lord, to save:
Back to our hopes and wishes give
Our teacher, Lord, and bid him live.

3 Yet if our supplications fail,

And prayers and tears cannot prevail,
Be thou his strength, be thou his stay,
Support him through the narrow way.
4 Around him may thy angels stand,
To bear him to a better land;
To teach his happy soul to rise,
And waft him to the upper skies.

DEATH.

270

Death of a Child.

C. M.

"TIS Jesus speaks! I fold, says he,
These lambs within my breast:

Protection they shall find in me,
In me be ever blessed.

2 Death may the bands of life unloose,
But can't dissolve my love;

Millions of intant souls compose

The family above.

3 Their feeble frames my power shall raise, And mould with heavenly skill;

I'll give them tongues to sing my praise, And hands to do my will.

4 His words the happy parents hear,
And shout with joy divine,
"O Saviour! all we have and are
Shall be for ever thine."

271 Reward of the faithful Teachers. 8,7.

WHEN the infant spirit, flying,

Smiles and gladly leaves its clay,

On a Saviour's death relying,
Soaring to the world of day;

2 If beside that pillow, standing,
One there be, who taught it so;
Led that little soul, expanding,
All the love of God to know;

30 how pure must be the pleasure,
Thus his sweet reward to see;
As its life fulfils its measure,
As it seeks eternity!

272/ The righteous Dead.

THINK, O ye who fondly languish

8,7.

O'er the grave of those you love,
While your bosoms throb with anguish,
They are singing hymns above.
2 While your silent steps are straying
Lonely through night's deepening shade,
Glory's brightest beams are playing
Round the happy Christian's head.

3 Light and peace at once deriving
From the hand of God most high;
In his glorious presence living,
They shall never, never die.