2 'Tis He, the Potentate supreme
Of all the worlds above,

Whose steady counsels wisely rule,
Nor from their purpose move.

3 Tis He, whose justice might demand
Our souls a sacrifice;

Yet scatters, with unwearied hand,
A thousand rich supplies.

4 Our covenant God and Father He,
In Christ, our bleeding Lord;
Whose grace can heal the bursting heart
With one reviving word.

5 Silent I own Jehovah's name;

I kiss Thy chastening hand;
And yield my comforts and my life
To Thy supreme command.

319. "Unto them will I give.... a place and a name better than of sons and of daughters." Isa. lvi. 5. C. M.

1 YE mourning saints, whose streaming tears Flow o'er your children dead,

Say not, in transports of despair,
That all

your hopes are fled.

2 While, cleaving to that darling dust,
In fond distress ye lie,

Rise, and with joy and reverence view
A Heavenly Parent nigh.

3 Though, your young branches torn away, Like withered trunks ye stand,

With fairer verdure shall ye bloom,
Touched by the Almighty's hand.

4 "I'll give the mourner," saith the Lord,
"In My own house a place :
No names of daughters and of sons
Could yield so high a grace.

5 "Transient and vain is every hope
A rising race can give :
In endless honour and delight
My children all shall live."

6 We welcome, Lord! those rising tears
Through which Thy face we see;

And bless the wounds that, through our
Prepare a way for Thee.

320.

[hearts,

"It is sown in dishonour; it is raised in glory.”
1 Cor. xv. 43. L. M.

1 UNVEIL thy bosom, faithful tomb!
Take this new treasure to thy trust;
And give these sacred relics room
Awhile, to slumber in the dust.

2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear, Invades thy bounds; no mortal woes Can reach the forms that slumber here; And angels watch their soft repose. 3 So Jesus slept: God's dying Son Passed through the grave, and blessed the bed.

Rest here, dear saint! till from His throne The morning break, and pierce the shade. 4 Break from His throne, illustrious morn! Attend, O earth! His sovereign word. Restore thy trust, a glorious form: He must ascend to meet His Lord.

321.

"The end of that man is peace." Psalm xxxvii. 37.

L. M.

1 HOW 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: Nothing disturbs that peace profound, Which his unfettered 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!

322.

"To die is gain." Phil. i. 21. P. M.

1 REJOICE for a brother deceased;
Our loss is his infinite gain :

A soul out of prison released,
And free from its bodily chain :

With songs let us follow his flight,
And mount with his spirit above,
Escaped to the mansions of light,

And lodged in the Eden of love.

2 Our brother the haven hath gained,
Out-flying the tempest and wind:
His rest he hath sooner obtained,
And left his companions behind,
Still tossed on a sea of distress,
Hard toiling to make the glad shore,
Where all is assurance and peace,
And sorrow and sin are no more.

3 There all the glad company meet,
Who sailed with the Saviour beneath :
With shouting each other they greet,
And triumph o'er trouble and death.
The voyage of life's at an end;

The mortal affliction is past.
The age that in heaven they spend,
For ever and ever shall last.

323.

1

"We know that if our earthly house of this taber-
nacle were dissolved, we have a building of God."
2 Cor. v. 1. S. M. double.

WE know, by faith we know,
If this vile house of clay,

This tabernacle, sink below

In ruinous decay;

We have a house above,

Not made with mortal hands:

And, firm as our Redeemer's love,
The heavenly fabric stands.

2

3

Oh, happy, happy place,

Where saints and angels meet! There shall we see each other's face, And all our brethren greet:

The church of the first-born,

We shall with them be blest;

And, crowned with endless joy, return
To our eternal rest.

Awhile in flesh disjoined,

Our friends that went before, We soon in paradise shall find, And meet to part no more: The saints of ancient days, We shall with them sit down, Who fought the fight, and ran the race, And then received the crown.

324. "Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all gene

rations." Psalm xc. 1.

L. M.

1 THOU, Lord! through every changing

scene,

Hast to Thy saints a refuge been;
Through every age, eternal God!
Thy presence their secure abode.

2 In Thee our fathers sought their rest;
In Thee our fathers still are blest.
Our helpless state with pity view,
And let us share their refuge too.

3 So, when this pilgrimage is o'er,
And we must dwell in flesh no more,
To Thee our separate souls shall come,
And find in Thee a surer home.

Y