2 I looked upon the righteous man,
And heard the holy prayer

Which rose above that breathless form,
To soothe the mourners' care,
And felt how precious was the gift
He to his loved ones gave –
The stainless memory of the just,
The wealth beyond the grave.

3 I looked upon the righteous man;
And all our earthly trust
Of pleasure, vanity, or pride,
Seemed lighter than the dust,
Compared with his celestial gain
A home above the sky:

O, grant us, Lord, his life to live,
That we like him may die.

1111.

L. M.

BATHURST.

The Christian's parting Hour.

1 HOW sweet the hour of closing day,
When all is peaceful and serene,
And when the sun, with cloudless ray,
Sheds mellow lustre o'er the scene!

2 Such is the Christian's parting hour;
So peacefully he sinks to rest;
When faith, endued from heaven with power,
Sustains and cheers his languid breast.

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?

1112.

8s & 7s.

COLLYER.

Comfort in the Death of the Christian.

1 CEASE, ye mourners, cease to languish
O'er the grave of those you love;
Pain, and death, and night, and anguish,
Enter not the world above.

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,
In his glorious presence living,
They shall never, never die.

4 Endless pleasure, pain excluding,
Sickness, there, no more can come;
There, no fear of woe, intruding,
Sheds o'er heaven a moment's gloom.

1113.

C. M.

DODDRIDGE.

The Christian's Farewell.

1 YE golden lamps of heaven, farewell,
With all your feeble light;
Farewell, thou ever-changing moon,
Pale empress of the night.

2 And thou, refulgent orb of day,
In brighter flames arrayed,

My soul, that springs beyond thy sphere,
No more demands thy aid.

3 Ye stars are but the shining dust
Of my divine abode,

The pavement of those heavenly courts
Where I shall see my God.

4 The Father of eternal light

Will there his beams display;

Nor shall one moment's darkness blend
With that unvaried day.

1114.

S. M.

CH. PSALMODY.

The peaceful Death of the Righteous.

1 O FOR the death of those

Who slumber in the Lord!
O, be like theirs my last repose,
Like theirs my last reward!
2 Their bodies in the ground,
In silent hope, may lie,

Till the last trumpet's joyful sound
Shall call them to the sky.

3 Their ransomed spirits soar,

On wings of faith and love,
To meet the Saviour they adore,
And reign with him above.
4 With us their names shall live
Through long-succeeding years,
Embalmed with all our hearts can give —
Our praises and our tears.

5 O for the death of those

Who slumber in the Lord!
O, be like theirs my last repose,
Like theirs my last reward!

1115.

C. M.

Death of a Minister.

DODDRIDGE.

1 WHAT though the arm of conquering death Does God's own house invade;

What though our teacher and our friend
Is numbered with the dead;

2 Though earthly shepherds dwell in dust,
The aged and the young;

The watchful eye in darkness closed,
And dumb th' instructive tongue;-

3 Th' eternal Shepherd still survives,
His teaching to impart:

Lord, be our Leader and our Guide,
And rule and keep our heart.

4 Yes, while the dear Redeemer lives,
We have a boundless store,

And shall be fed with what He gives,
Who lives forevermore.

1116.

10s.

MONTGOMERY.

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: :- no; take thy seat above; Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord, Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love, And open vision for the written word.

1117.

8s & 7s.

L. H. SIGOURNEY.

Death of a Pastor.

1 PASTOR, thou art from us taken
In the glory of thy years,
As the oak, by tempests shaken,

Falls ere time its verdure sears.

2 Here, where oft thy lip hath taught us
Of the Lamb who died to save,
Where thy guiding hand hath brought us
To the deep, baptismal wave,

3 Pale and cold we see thee lying
In God's temple, once so dear,
And the mourners' bitter sighing

Falls unheeded on thine ear.
4 All thy love and zeal, to lead us
Where immortal fountains flow,
And on living bread to feed us,
In our fond remembrance glow.

5 May the conquering faith that cheered thee
When thy foot on Jordan pressed,
Guide our spirits while we leave thee
In the tomb that Jesus blessed.

1118.

S. M.

MONTGOMERY.

The Death of an aged Minister.

1 "SERVANT of God, well done;
Rest from thy loved employ:
The battle fought, the victory won,
Enter thy Master's joy."

2 The voice at midnight came;
He started up to hear;

A mortal arrow pierced his frame;
He fell, but felt no fear.

3 Tranquil amid alarms,

It found him on the field,
A veteran slumbering on his arms,
Beneath his red-cross shield.

4 The pains of death are past;
Labor and sorrow cease;
And, life's long warfare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.

5 Soldier of Christ, well done;
Praise be thy new employ;
And, while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour's joy.

1119.

8s & 9s.

SAC. SONGS.

Death of a Missionary.

1 WEEP not for the saint that ascends
To partake of the joys of the sky;'
Weep not for the seraph that bends
With the worshipping chorus on high;
Weep not for the spirit now crowned
With the garland to martyrdom given ;
O, weep not for him: he has found

His reward and his refuge in heaven. 2 But weep for their sorrows who stand

And lament o'er the dead by his grave;
Who sigh when they muse on the land
Of their home far away o'er the wave;
And weep for the nations that dwell

Where the light of the truth never shone,
Where anthems of peace never swell,
And the love of the Lord is unknown.