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3 Go to the grave, for there thy Saviour lay

In death's embraces, ere he rose on high;
And all the ransomed, by that narrow way,

Pass to eternal life beyond the sky.
4 Go to the grave:- no, take thy seat above;

Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord,
Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love,

vision for the written word.

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1 VITAL spark of heavenly flame,

Quit, О quit this mortal frame!
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
O 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 :

Heaven 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?

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i Brother, thou art gone before us,

And thy saintly soul is flown, Where tears are wiped from every eye,

And sorrow is unknown, From the burden of the flesh,

And from care and fear released, Where the wicked cease from troubling

And the weary are at rest.

2 Brother, yes, thy course is finished;

Thou hast borne earth's heavy load, But Christ has taught thy languid feet

To reach his blest abode : Sweetly art thou sleeping now,

On thy Father's faithful breast, Where the wicked cease from troubling

And the weary are at rest.

3 Sin no more can taint thy spirit,

Nor can doubt thy faith assail; Thy soul its welcome has received,

Thy strength shall never fail : And thou ’rt sure to meet the good,

Whom on earth thou lovedst best, Where the wicked cease from troubling

And the weary are at rest.

4 To thy grave we sadly bear thee,

There in dust we place thy head, We lay the turf above thee now,

And seal thy narrow bed ;

But thy spirit soars away,

Free, among the faithful blest, Where the wicked cease from troubling

And the weary are at rest.

S. M.



On the Death of an Aged Minister.


SERVANT of God, well done!

Rest from thy loved employ; The battle fought, the victory won,

Enter thy Master's joy.


The voice at midnight came,

He started up to hear;
A mortal arrow pierced his frame, –

He fell, but felt no fear.


Tranquil amidst alarms,

It found him on the field,
A veteran slumbering on his arms,

Beneath his red-cross shield.


The pains of death are past;

Labor and sorrow cease;
And, life's long warfare closed at last,

His soul is found in peace.
Soldier of Christ, well done!

Praise be thy new employ;
And while eternal ages run,

Rest in thy Saviour's joy.



C. M.



A Prospect of Ileaven.

By glimmering hopes and gloomy fears

We trace the sacred road; Through dismal deeps and dangerous snares

We make our way to God.

2 Long nights and darkness dwell below,

With scarce a twinkling ray;
But the bright world to which we go

Is everlasting day.

3 See the kind angels at the gates,

Inviting us to come;
There Jesus, the Forerunner, waits,

To welcome travellers home.

4 There, on a green and flowery mount,

Our weary souls shall sit,
And with transporting joys recount

The labors of our feet.

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1 LET faith arise, and climb the hills,

And from afar descry
How distant are his chariot-wheels,

And tell how fast they fly.
2 Lo, I behold the scattering shades;

The dawn of heaven appears ; The sweet, immortal morning spreads

Its blushes round the spheres. 3 I see the Lord of glory come,

And Aaming guards around; The skies divide to make him room,

The trumpet shakes the ground.

4 I hear the voice, “ Ye dead, arise!”

And lo! the graves obey, And waking saints, with joyful eyes,

Salute the expected day.

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1 THERE is a land of pure delight,

Where saints immortal reign; Infinite day excludes the night,

And pleasures banish pain.

2 There, everlasting spring abides,

And never-withering flowers ; Death, like a narrow sea, divides

This heavenly land from ours.

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