2 Follow'd by their works they go, Where their Head is gone before; Reconciled by grace below,

Grace hath open'd mercy's door; Justified through faith alone,

Here they knew their sins forgiven; Here they laid their burden down, Hallow'd, and made meet for heaven.

1079

7th P. M. 8 lines Ts.

Continued.-The Saviour's smile.

WHY should we lament the lot

Of a saint in Christ deceased! Let the world, who know us not, Call us hopeless and unblest: When from flesh the spirit, freed, Hastens homeward to return, Mortals cry,-A man is dead! Angels sing,-A child is born!

2 Born into the world above,

They our happy brother greet;
Bear him to the throne of love,
Place him at the Saviour's feet:
Jesus smiles, and says,-Well done!
Good and faithful servant thou!
Enter and receive thy crown;
Reign with me triumphant now.

8 Angels catch the' approving sound,
Bow, and bless the just award;
Hail the heir with glory crown'd,
Now rejoicing with his Lord,-

Fuller joys ordam'd to know,

Waiting for the gen'ral doom,

When the archangel's trump shall blowRise, ye dead, to judgment come!

1080

1st P. M. 6 lines 88.

Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.

JESUS was ever love like thine!
Thy life a scene of wonder is;
Thy death itself is all divine,

Whil, pleased thy spirit to dismiss,
Thou dost out of the flesh retire,
And like the Prince of life expire.

2 Thy death supports the dying saint;
Thy death my sov'reign comfort be;
While feeble flesh and nature faint,
Arm with thy mortal agony;
And fill, while soul and body part,
With life, immortal life, my heart.
30 let thy death's mysterious power,
With all its sacred weight, descend,
To consecrate my final hour,-

To bless me with thy peaceful end: And, breathed into the hands divine, My spirit be received with thine.

1081

Let

0

S. M.

me die the death of the righteous.

FOR the death of these
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 ransom'd spirits soar,
On wings of faith and love,
To meet the Saviour they adore,
And reign with him above.

4 O for the death of those

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

1082

C. M.

Death gain to the faithful. WHY should our tears in sorrow flow

When God recalls his own,

And bids them leave a world of wo,
For an immortal crown?

2 Is not e'en death a gain to those
Whose life to God was given!
Gladly to earth their eyes they close,
To open them in heaven.

3 Their toils are past, their work is done, And they are fully blest;

They fought the fight, the vict'ry won,
And enter'd into rest.

4 Then let our sorrows cease to flow;
God has recall'd his own;

But let our hearts, in every wo,
Still say,-Thy will be done."

1083

HOW

L. M.

The end of that man is peace.
OW blest the righteous when he dies!
When sinks a weary soul to rest!
How mildly beam the closing eyes!
How gently heaves the' expiring breast!
2 So fades a summer cloud away;
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day:
So dies a wave along the shore.

3 A holy quiet reigns around,-
A calm which life nor death destroys;
And raught disturbs that peace profound
Which his unfetter'd soul enjoys.

4 Farewell, conflicting hopes and fears, Where lights and shades alternate dwell! How bright the' unchanging morn appears! Farewell, inconstant world, farewell!

5 Life's labour done, as sinks the clay,Light from its load the spirit flies, While heaven and earth combine to say,How blest the righteous when he dies!

1084

C. M.

The death of a pastor.
thee, O God, when creatures fail,
Thy flock, deserted, flies;

And on the eternal Shepherd's care,
Our steadfast hope relies.

2 When o'er thy faithful servant's dust
Thy saints assembled mourn,

In speedy tokens of thy grace,
O Zion's God, return!

8 The powers of nature all are thine,
And thine the aids of grace;
Thine arm has borne thy churches up,
Through each succeeding race.

4 Exert thy sacred influence here,
And here thy suppliants bless;

And change to strains of cheerful praise
Our accents of distress.

1085

HE

1st P. M. 6 lines 88.

-Whose faith follow.

IJE'S gone! the spotless soul is gone,
Triumphant, to his place above;
The prison walls are broken down;
The angels speed his swift remove,
And, shouting, on their wings he flies,
And gains his rest in paradise.

2 Saved by the merit of his Lord, Glory and praise to Christ he gives; Yet still his merciful reward

According to his works receives;
And with the seed he sow'd below,
His bliss eternally shall grow.

3 Father, to us vouchsafe the grace
Which brought our friend victorious through
Let us his shining footsteps trace;
Let us his steadfast faith pursue;
Follow this foll'wer of the Lamb,
And conquer all through Jesus' Name.
4 O may we all, like him, believe,
And keep the faith, and win the prize!
Father, prepare, and then receive
Our hallow'd spirits to the skies,
To chant, with all our friends above,
Thy glorious, everlasting love.

The crowning hour.

CERVANT of God, well done!

S. M.

Thy glorious warfare 's past;
The battle's fought, the race is won,
And thou art crown'd at last;-

2 Of all thy heart's desire

Triumphantly possess'd;

Lodged by the ministerial choir
In thy Redeemer's breast.

3 In condescending love,

Thy ceaseless prayer He heard;
And bade thee suddenly remove
To thy complete reward.

4 With saints enthroned on high,
Thou dost thy Lord proclaim,
And still to God salvation cry,-
Salvation to the Lamb!