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Bth P. M. 4 lines 79
The heathen mother.
With her own maternal hand
'Mid the waves her infaut throw,
Frightful monsters seize their prey;
Bears the struggling child away.
Breaks the cry upon the enr;
She, unmoved, thật cry can hear!
Let its precepts reach her heart;
Act the mother's tender part.
At the price
3 Through its dark and narrow portal
Once they bore thee to thy rest; There a ray of light immortal, Like a sunbeam from the west,
Burst the shadows And the grave thenceforth was blest.
4 By the light that thug was given
To the darkness of the tomb-
Star of gladness,
6 From our circle, little brother,
Early bast thou pass'd away! But the angels say,-- Another Joing our boly song to-day!
Weep no longer-
6th P. M. 6 lines 78. The early dead.
, Often droop and lose their bloomPass away in childhood's hour,
To the cold and silent tomb Bodies laid beneath the sod Spirits gone away to God!
2 Oft along the busy street,
Sad and tearful mourniers go; Mothers for their children weep,
Weep that death has laid the low Nipp'd the buds before their bloom, Hid'them in the silent tomb
6 Then let us weep as Jesus wept;
Hallow'd by love each gentle sigh;
The Christian need not fear to die.
9th P. M. 87, 87.
Gentle as the summer breeze,
When it floats among the trees.
Peaceful in the grave so low :'
Thou no more our songs shalt know.
Here thy loss we deeply feel;
He can all our sorrow heal.
When the day of life is fled,
Where no farewell tear is shed.
His seal was on thy brow.
Soul, to its rest on high;
No more may fear to die.