1. CHAMPION of Jesus!-man of God,
Servant of Christ, well done!
Thy path of thorns hath now been trod,
Thy red-cross crown is won!
No gloom of fear hath glazed thine eye,
For though loud billows roll-
The Aurora of eternity
Is rising on thy soul!
2. Champion of Jesus! on that breast
From whence Thy fervor flow'd,
Thou hast obtained eternal rest,
The bosom of Thy God!
Oh! to be one, through life and death,
In Christ, with such as thee!
And when I yield my latest breath,
Dear Lord, remember me!
1. In vain our fancy strives to paint
The moment after death,
The glories that surround a saint,
When he resigns his breath.
2. One gentle sigh his fetters breaks;
One effort and he's gone!
And lo! the willing spirit takes
Its mansion near the throne.
3. We strive, but all our efforts fail
To trace that upward flight;
No eye can pierce within the vail
Which hides the world of light.
4. Yet though we see them'not-we know Saints are supremely blest;
Are freed from sin, and care, and woe,
And with their Saviour rest.
5. On harps of gold His name they praise,
His face they always view;
And if we here their footsteps trace,
There we shall praise Him too.
1. SWIFT as the arrow cuts its way
Through the soft yielding air;
Or as the sun's more subtle ray,
Or lightning's sudden glare;
2. Or as an eagle to the prey,
Or shuttle through the loom,
So haste our fleeting lives away,
So pass we to the tomb!
3. Like airy bubbles, lo! we rise,
And dance upon life's stream;
Till soon the air that caused, destroys
Th' attenuated frame.
From infancy to age,
Heaven is the Christian pilgrim's home,
His rest at every stage.
2. Thither, his raptured thought ascends
Eternal joys to share;
There, his adoring spirit bends,
While here, he kneels in prayer.
3. From earth his freed affections rise,
To fix on things above,
Where all his hope of glory lies-
Where all is perfect love.
4. There, too, may we our treasure place-
There let our hearts be found;
That still, where sin abounded, grace
May more and more abound.
5. Henceforth, our conversation be,
With Christ before the throne;
Ere long we, eye to eye, shall see,
And know as we are known.
mourn de part- ing friends, Or shake at death's a - larms!
1. AWAKE, ye saints, and raise your eyes, And raise your voices high;
Awake and praise the sovereign love,
That shows salvation nigh.
2. On all the wings of time it flies,
Each moment brings it near;
Then welcome, each declining day!
Welcome, each closing year!
3. Not many years their round shall run,
Nor many mornings rise,
Ere all its glories stand revealed
To our admiring eyes.
4. Ye wheels of nature, speed your course; Ye mortal powers, decay;
Fast as ye bring the night of death,
Ye bring eternal day.
1. ALL nature dies, and lives again;
The flowers that paint the field,
The trees that crown the mountain's brow,
And boughs and blossoms yield-
2. O, who, in such a world as this,
Could bear their lot of pain,
Did not one radiant hope of bliss
Unclouded yet remain?
That hope the sovereign Lord has given,
Who reigns above the skies;-
Hope, that unites our souls to heaven,
By faith's endearing ties.
3. Each care, each ill of mortal birth,
Is sent in pitying love
To lift the lingering heart from earth,
And speed its flight above.
And every pang that wrings the breast,
And every joy that dies,
Tells us to seek a purer rest,
And trust to holier ties.
1. I TRAVEL all the irksome night,
By ways to me unknown;
I travel like a bird in flight,
Onward, and all alone.
2. Just such a pilgrimage is life;
Hurried from stage to stage, Our wishes with our lot at strife, Through childhood to old age.
3. The world is seldom what it seems
To man, who dimly secs-
Realities appear as dreams,
And dreams, realities.
4. The Christian's years, tho' slow their flight, When he is called away,
Are but the watches of a night,
And death the dawn of day.
1. FEW, few, and evil are thy days,
Man, of a woman born!
Peril and trouble haunt thy ways.
Forth, like a flower at morn.
The tender infant springs to light,
Youth blossoms to the breeze, "Age, withering age, is cropt er: night; Man, like a shadow, flees.
2. And dost thou look on such a one? Will God to judgment call
A worm, for what a worm hath done
Against the Lord of all?-
As fail the waters from the deep,
As summer-brooks run dry,
Man lieth down in dreamless sleep;
His life is vanity.
3. Man lieth down, no more to wake,
Till yonder arching sphere
Shall with a roll of thunder break,
And nature disappear.
O hide me till Thy wrath be past,
Thou, who canst slay or save!
Hide me where hope may anchor fast
In my Redeemer's grave.
Dreams of a sleep that death must break: Alas! before it bids us wake, They dis
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