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2 I looked upon the righteous man,
Which rose above that breathless form,
The Christian's parting Hour.
2 Such is the Christian's parting hour;
3 Mark but that radiance of his eye, That smile upon his wasted cheek: They tell us of his glory nigh,
In language that no tongue can speak.
4 A beam from heaven is sent to cheer The pilgrim on his gloomy road; And angels are attending near,
To bear him to their bright abode.
5 Who would not wish to die like those Whom God's own Spirit deigns to bless? To sink into that soft repose,
Then wake to perfect happiness?
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Comfort in the Death of the Christian.
1 CEASE, ye mourners, cease to languish
2 While our 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,
They shall never, never die.
4 Endless pleasure, pain excluding,
Sickness, there, no more can come;
The Christian's Farewell.
1 YE golden lamps of heaven, farewell,
Farewell, thou ever-changing moon,
2 And thou, refulgent orb of day,
My soul, that springs beyond thy sphere,
3 Ye stars are but the shining dust
The pavement of those heavenly courts
4 The Father of eternal light
Will there his beams display;
4 With us their names shall live
5 O for the death of those
Death of a Minister.
1 WHAT though the arm of conquering death Does God's own house invade;
What though our teacher and our friend
2 Though earthly shepherds dwell in dust,
The watchful eye in darkness closed,
3 Th' eternal Shepherd still survives,
Lord, be our Leader and our Guide,
4 Yes, while the dear Redeemer lives,
Death of a Minister in his Prime. 1 GO to the grave in all thy glorious prime, In full activity of zeal and power;
A Christian cannot die before his time;
The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour. 2 Go to the grave; at noon from labor cease;
Rest on thy sheaves; thy harvest-task is done; Come from the heat of battle, and in peace,
Soldier, go home; with thee the fight is won. 3 Go to the grave; for there thy Saviour lay
In death's embrace, ere he arose on high; And all the ransomed, by that narrow way, Pass to eternal life beyond the sky.
4 Go to the grave:
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Death of a Pastor.
1 PASTOR, thou art from us taken
As the oak, by tempests shaken,
L. H. SIGOUrney.
2 Here, where oft thy lip hath taught us
3 Pale and cold we see thee lying
4 All thy love and zeal, to lead us
Where immortal fountains flow,
5 May the conquering faith that cheered thee
The Death of an aged Minister.
2 The voice at midnight came;
A mortal arrow pierced his frame;
3 Tranquil amid alarms,
It found him on the field,
4 The pains of death are past;
5 Soldier of Christ, well done;
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Death of a Missionary.
1 WEEP not for the saint that ascends
With the worshipping chorus on high;
With the garland to martyrdom given;
His reward and his refuge in heaven. 2 But weep for their sorrows who stand
And lament o'er the dead by his grave;
Of their home far away o'er the wave;
Where the light of the truth never shone,