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They Ghat are Christ's at His Coming.

I will fear no evil. Psalm xxiii. 4.

L. M.

699
Why should we shrink with doubt and fear,
Or dread to walk death's vale of shade?
The Lord our shepherd will be near
To comfort us, and guide and aid.
CHORUS.

Jesus can make a dying bed

Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on his breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.
We lay us down in peace and sleep,
Secure while living or while dead;
Our Shepherd's love will safely keep
The flock for whom his blood was shed.
Not life nor death, nor earth nor hell,
Can from his love our souls divide;
We trust in Him and all is well,-
With him no evil can betide.

We smile to face a vanquished foe,
We conquer in our conquering King;
His resurrection power we know,
And shout, "O death where is thy sting?"
In peaceful triumph we lie down
To wait the trumpet's joyful voice;
When Christ shall come to bring the crown,
His saints, awaking, shall rejoice.

H., 1878, Chorus, I. Watts, 1709.

The dead in Christ shall rise first.
1 Thess. iv. 16.

700
L. M.
Oh, sorrow not for saints that sleep,
Like those who hopeless mourn their dead;
Nor o'er their graves in anguish deep
Your bitter tears despairing shed.
CHORUS.

The dead in Christ shall first arise,
Then we that live, with them shall be
Caught up together to the skies,

The Lord in glory there to see.

SECOND PART.

699-701

L. M.

Why should we mourn when from the sky
A voice proclaims the slumberers blest?
In Christ they live, in Christ they die,
And from their labors now they rest.

Awaking at the trumpet's call,
His resurrection they shall share;
And with the blest and holy, all
Shall meet the Saviour in the air.

Those who alive that day shall see,
Shall not precede the saints that sleep;
With joy their risen Lord to meet.
Caught up together they shall be,

So shall we ever with him dwell,
Safe in the presence of our Lord;
To mourning souls these tidings tell,-
Comfort each other with this word.

The valley of the shadow. Psalm xxiii. 4.

H., 1880.

701
L. M.
Cheerful we walk thro' death's dark vale,
Nor shall our faith or courage fail,
Doth comfort us, and guard, and guide.
While Israel's Shepherd by our side

CHORUS.

Jesus, great Shepherd of the sheep,
Lead us through all our dangerous road;
Till we shall gain thy bright abode;
Our trusting souls in safety keep
There may we in thy peace, thy peace abide,
And never wander from thy side,
And never wander from thy side.

His hand will smooth the dying bed,
And peace upon the pillow shed,
And gently close the tearful eyes,

Then shall we prove his faithful, faithful word, To sleep till glory's morn shall rise.

And so be ever with the Lord,

And so be ever with the Lord.

Thro' deserts waste and waters deep,
Walks Christ the Shepherd of the sheep;
And we who in his footsteps tread
Shall rise victorious from the dead.
Oh, joyful day, when Christ our King,
Shall bid his saints awake and sing,
And call the blest from every shore,
To dwell with him forevermore.
EL, 1880.

Here low beneath death's silent clod,
They end life's sorrows and complaints:
How precious in the sight of God,
The death of his beloved saints!
Rest ye in silence and in hope;
We weep and sing around your bed;
But Christ shall come to raise you up,
Triumphant, from among the dead.

702-703

Rest.

I am not Ashamed off the Gospel.

L. M.

William B. Bradbury, 1843.

1 De-ny thee? what! deny the Way That leads to heaven's e-ter-nal day?

De-ny the Shep-herd who will keep With-in the fold his wandering sheep?

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2 Deny Thee who alone canst give The hope that bids the sinner live, Can bid him burst sin's galling chain, And bless him with Thy peace again?

3 Deny Thee, Lord! who then will bear
My grief, my burden, and my care?
Thou, thou alone canst calm my breast,
And bid its weary throbbings rest.

4 Deny Thee, when thy blood was shed
T'avert destruction from my head?
Deny thee, when thy pitying eye
Shed tears for man's infirmity?

5 Deny the love that came to save,
And bid him triumph o'er the grave?
Deny the hand which gave the bread
By which each fainting soul is fed?

6 Deny those blessed lips whence pour'd
Pardon for sin confessed, deplored?
Deny the cross to which I cling;
And from my soul its succor fling?

7 Lood, grant that I may ne'er transgress
The holy words my lips confess;-
Oh, save me, Lord, from casting shame
On those that bear thy sacred name.

SECOND PART.

8 Deny Thee, helper of my need;
Support of every bruised reed?
In heaven above, on earth below,
Where, save to thee, Lord, could I go?
9 Where could I whisper all my fears,
And show my anguish and my tears?
Thou hast the words of endless life.
Where fly for strength, 'mid mortal strife?

10 Where could I take my heart's despair?
Where could I breathe its fervent prayer?
Thou bid'st me, careworn and opprest,
Bring thee my load and sweetly rest.
11 My Strength, my Guide, vouchsafe to be,
I can do nothing without Thee;
Save me in every trying hour,
Thou God of mercy, life, and power!

Lev. i. 4.

H. H, ab. 1839.

703 His hand upon the head of the burnt offering-L. M.
A sinner, Lord, behold me stand,
And on the Victim lay my hand;
While I confess with shame and guilt,
The sins for which Thy blood was spilt.
With contrite heart and tearful eyes;
Help me to view my Sacrifice
And find, thro' Jesus' cleansing blood,
Pardon, and life, and peace with God.

H., 1884.

They Rest from Ghein Labors.

Concerning them which are asleep. I Thess. iv. 13.

Prov. iii 13.

704-707

L. M. 706 Happy is the man that findeth wisdom. L. M.
Happy the man that finds the grace,
The blessing of God's chosen race,
The wisdom coming from above,
The faith that sweetly works by love.

704
Asleep in Jesus! blessed sleep!
From which none ever wakes to weep;
A calm and undisturbed repose,
Unbroken by the last of foes!

Asleep in Jesus! oh, how sweet
To be for such a slumber meet!
With holy confidence to sing

Happy, beyond description, he

Who knows, "the Saviour died for me!"
The gift unspeakable obtains,

That death hath lost its venomed sting! And heavenly understanding gains.

Asleep in Jesus! peaceful rest!
Whose waking is supremely blest;
No fear, no woe, shall dim that hour
That manifests the Saviour's power.

Asleep in Jesus! oh, for me
May such a blissful refuge be!
Securely shall my ashes lie,
Waiting the summons from on high.

Asleep in Jesus! time nor space
Debars this precious "hiding place:"
On Indian plains, or Lapland snows,
Believers find the same repose.
Asleep in Jesus! far from thee
Thy kindred and their graves may be;
But thine is still a blessed sleep,
From which none ever wakes to weep.
Margaret Mackay, 1882.

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Wisdom divine! Who tells the price Of Wisdom's costly merchandise? Wisdom to silver we prefer,

And gold is dross compared to her.

Her hands are filled with length of days,
True riches, and immortal praise;
Riches of Christ on all bestowed,
And honor that descends from God.

To purest joys she all invites,
Chaste, holy, spiritual delights;
Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
And all her flowery paths are peace.

Happy the man who Wisdom gains;
Thrice happy, who his guest retains!
He owns, and shall for ever own,
Wisdom, and Christ, and Heaven are one.
Wesley, ab. 1774.

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L. M. 707
Come, Holy Spirit, Dove divine,
On these baptismal waters shine,
And teach our hearts in highest strain,
To praise the Lamb for sinners slain.

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We love thy name, we love thy laws,
And joyfully embrace thy cause;
We love thy cross, the shame, the pain,
O Lamb of God, for sinners slain!

We sink beneath thy mystic flood;
Oh, bathe us in thy cleansing blood;
We die to sin, and seek a grave,
With thee, beneath the yielding wave.
And as we rise, with thee to live,
Oh, let the Holy Spirit give
The healing unction from above,,
The breath of life, the fire of love.
Adoniram Judson, 1788-1850.

708-710

Dedication Chant.

T House of Prayeq.

L.M.

Leonard Marshall, 1842.

1 Oh, bow thine ear, E-ternal One! On thee our heart a - dor-ing calls;

To thee, the followers of thy Son Have raised, and now devote these walls.

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L. M. 710
O Christ, our true and only Light,
Illumine those who sit in night,
Let those afar now hear Thy voice,
And in Thy fold with us rejoice.
Fill with the radiance of Thy grace
The souls now lost in error's maze,
And all in whom their secret minds
Some dark delusion hurts and blinds.

2 Here let thy holy days be kept; And be this place to worship given, Like that bright spot where Jacob slept, The house of God, the gate of heav'n. 3 Here may thine honor dwell; and here, As incense, let thy children's prayer, From contrite hearts and lips sincere,

Rise on the still and holy air. 4 Here be thy praise devoutly sung; Here let thy truth beam forth to save; As when, of old, thy Spirit hung

On wings of light, o'er Jordan's wave. 5 And when the lips, that with thy name Are vocal now, to dust shall turn,

On others may devotion's flame
Be kindled here, and purely burn.
John Pierpont, 1785-1866.

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And all who else have stray'd from Thee,
Oh gently seek! Thy healing be
To every wounded conscience given,
And let them also share Thy heaven.

Oh make the deaf to hear Thy word,
And teach the dumb to speak, dear Lord,
Who dare not yet the faith avow,
Though secretly they hold it now.

Shine on the darkened and the cold,
Recall the wanderers from thy fold,
Unite those who now walk apart,
Confirm the weak and doubting heart.

So they with us may evermore
Such grace with wond'ring thanks adore,
And endless praise to thee be given
By all thy Church in earth and heaven.

John Heermann, 1680, Tr. C. Winkworth, 1858.

The Soquet Place of the Most High.

711 Grace unto you, and peace, be multiplied L. M.
Lord, thou art with us while we pray,
In this thy house, on this thy day;
Thy comforts in our hearts increase,
Let grace be multiplied, and peace.
Grant us, O Lord, the hearing ear,
And may we all be swift to hear
And slow to speak, before that King
Whose glory veiled seraphs sing.

Break thou the mourner's heavy chain;
Heal thou the sorrowing sinner's pain;
Comfort the stricken, cheer the sad;
Oh, make the heavy-laden glad.

Grant, Saviour, that this hour may be
A foretaste of our rest with thee;
A fountain in earth's waste of sand,
A shadow in a weary land.

Help us to celebrate thy praise;
Be thou our light in gloomy days;
Bless us, and bid us part in peace,
To meet where woes and partings cease.

Under the shadow of the Almighty.
Psalm xci. 1.

H., 1880.

L. M.

712
He who his dwelling hath with God,
And rests beneath th' Almighty's shade,
Can say, my fortress is the Lord,
I trust him, and am not afraid.

From snares, and blood, and pestilence,
God shall thy great deliverer be;
His truth shall be thy sure defense,
His spreading wings shall cover thee.

He from the fowler's snare shall save;
His angels shall protect thy head,
And guide thy feet in all thy ways,
While thou shalt on the lion tread.

A thousand at thy side shall fall,
Ten thousand die at thy right hand;
But yet, unharmed amid them all,
Thou shalt in peace and safety stand.
Thy wondering eyes shall safely see
The wicked and their sad reward;
Because thy refuge sure shall be
In God, the high and mighty Lord.

H., 1881.

Exod. xii. 13.

711-715

713 When I see the blood I will pass over you. L. M.
Here at thy cross, my dying Lord,
I lay my soul beneath thy love,
Beneath the droppings of thy blood,
Nor shall it, Jesus, e'er remove.
Should worlds conspire to drive me thence,
Moveless and firm this heart should lie;
Resolved for that's my last defense-
If I must perish, there to die.

Am I not safe beneath thy shade?
But speak, my Lord, and calm my fear;
Thy justice will not strike me here,
Nor Satan dare my soul invade.

Yes, I'm secure beneath thy blood,
And all my foes shall lose their aim;
Hosanna to my Saviour God,
And my best honors to his name!
Isaac Watts, ab. 1709

Peter went out, and wept bitterly.
Luke xxii. 62.

L. M.

714
When silent steal across my soul
Remembrances of broken vows,
And tears, almost beyond control,
Flow, as my guilty spirit bows,
'Tis then I've caught the Saviour's eye,
Viewing with looks of injured love
Inconstant and ungrateful prove.
A soul for whom he deigned to die,

Oh! had he not so kindly glanced,
My weeping soul in anguish cries,
I could have borne that searching look,
But now I yield: my spirit dies.
No more on promises I'll rest,
Nor resolutions vainly made;
But leaning on my Saviour's breast,
Implore his Spirit's gracious aid.

Mrs. Torrey, cir. 1840?

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