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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 :
Whose eyes are bathed in tears.
6 But soon the morning's happier light
Its glories shall restore,
to close no more.
1 Why should we start, and fear to die?
What tirnorous worms we mortals are!
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,
1 NAKED, as from the earth we came,
And crept to life at first,
And mingle with our dust.
2 The dear delights we here enjoy,
And fondly call our own,
To be repaid anon.
3 ’T is God who lifts our comforts high,
He takes but what he gave.
4 Peace, all our angry passions, then;
Let each rebellious sigh
And every murmur die.
5 If smiling mercy crown our lives,
Its praises shall be spread;
That strikes our comforts dead.
12 & 11s. 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
2 Thou art gone to the grave; we no longer behold
thee, Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy
But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold
thee, And sinners may hope, since the Saviour hath
3 Thou arť gone to the grave; and, its mansion
forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in doubt lingered
long; But the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on thy
waking, And the sound thou didst hear was the sera
4 Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not
deplore thee, Since God was thy Refuge, thy Guardian, thy
Guide; He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore
thee; And death has no sting, since the Saviour hath
8 & 78. M.
S. F. SMITH.
The Death of a Sister.
i Sister, thou wast mild and lovely,
Gentle as the summer breeze,
2 Peaceful be thy silent slumber,
Peaceful in the grave so low;
Thou no more our songs shalt know.
3 Dearest sister, thou hast left us;
Here thy loss we deeply feel ;
He can all our sorrows heal.
A Yet again we hope to meet thee,
When the day of life is fled,
Where no farewell tear is shed.
Death of Parents.
1 The God of mercy will indulge
The flowing tear, the heaving sigh,
2 Yet not one anxious, murmuring thought
Should with our mourning passions blend;
3 Parent, Protector, Guardian, Guide,
Thou art each tender name in one;
4 To thee, our Father, would we look,
Our Rock, our Portion, and our Friend,
Had we no light, O God, from thee;