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Ps. 90.

C. M. 644. WATTS.

Man frail, and God eternal. 1 BEFORE the hills in order stood,

Or earth received her frame, From everlasting thou art God, To endless

years

the same. 2 A thousand ages, in thy sight,

Are like an evening gone; Short as the watch that ends the night,

Before the rising sun. 3 Time, like an ever-rolling stream,

Bears all its sons away; They fly, forgotten, as a dream

Dies at the opening day. 4 Like flowery fields the nations stand,

Pleased with the morning light: The flowers beneath the mower's hand

Lie withering ere 't is night. 5 Our God, our help in ages past,

Our hope for years to come, Be thou our guard while troubles last,

And our eternal home.

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Our Bodies frail, and God our Preserver. i LET others boast how strong they be,

Nor death nor danger fear;
But we 'll confess, O Lord, to thee,

What feeble things we are.

2 Fresh as the grass our bodies stand,

And flourish bright and gay;
A blasting wind sweeps o'er the land,

And fades the grass away.
3 Our life contains a thousand springs,

And dies, if one be gone;
Strange! that a harp of thousand strings

Should keep in tune so long.
4 But 't is our God supports our frame,

The God who built us first;
Salvation to the Almighty Name

That reared us from the dust.
5 While we have breath, or use our tongues,

Our Maker we 'll adore;
His spirit moves our heaving lungs,

Or they would breathe no more.

lls. M. 646.

EPISCOPAL COL.

I would not live alway.
i I would not live alway: I ask not to stay

Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way:
I would not live alway: no, - welcome the tomb;

Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom. . 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 ; 3 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 life of the soul.

C. M.

647.

PEABODY.

The Christian's Death.

1 BEHOLD the beauteous western light;

It melts in deepening gloom : So calmly Christians sink away,

Descending to the tomb.

2 The winds breathe low, the withering leaf

Scarce whispers from the tree; So gently flows the parting breath,

When good men cease to be.

3 How beautiful on all the hills

The crimson light is shed ! 'T is like the peace the Christian gives

To mourners round his bed.

4 How mildly on the wandering cloud

The sunset beam is cast!
T is like the memory, left behind,

When loved ones breathe their last.

5 And now, above the dews of night,

The yellow star appears :
So faith springs in the heart of those

Whose eyes are bathed in tears.
6 But soon the morning's happier light

Its glories shall restore,
And eyelids that are sealed in death

Shall ope, to close no more.

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1 Why should we start, and fear to die?

What timorous worms we mortals are!
Death is the gate of endless joy,

And yet we dread to enter there.
. The pains, the groans, and dying strife,

Fright our approaching souls away;
Still we shrink back again to life,

Fond of our prison and our clay.
3 O, if my Lord would come and meet,

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,
While on his breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.

C. M.

649. WATTS. God the Author of Mercies and Amictions.

1 Naked, as from the earth we came,

And crept to life at first,
We to the earth return again,

And mingle with our dust.
. The dear delights we here enjoy,

And fondly call our own,
Are but short favors borrowed now,

To be repaid anon.

3 "T is God who lifts our comforts high,

Or sinks them in the grave;
He gives, and, blessed be his name,
He takes but what he

gave.

4 Peace, all our angry passions, then;

Let each rebellious sigh
Be silent at his sovereign will,

And every murmur die.

5 If smiling mercy crown our lives,

Its praises shall be spread;
And we'll adore the justice, too,

That strikes our comforts dead.

12 & 1ls. M.

650.

HEBER.

Farewell to a Friend departed.

1 Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not de

plore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encompass the

tomb; The Saviour has passed through its portals before

thee, And the lamp of his love is thy guide through

the gloom. 2 Thou art gone to the grave; we no longer behold

thee, Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy

side;

But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold

thee, And sinners may hope, since the Saviour hath

died.

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