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HYMN CLXXXVIII.

I A nd let this feeble body fail,

And let it faint or die;
My soul shall quit the mournful vale,

And foar to worlds on high :
Shall join the disembody'd saints,

And find its long-fought reft,
That only bliss for which it pants,

In the Redeemer's breaft.
2 In hope of that immortal crown,

I now the cross fuftain,
And gladly wander up and down,

And smile at toil and pain :
I suffer on my threescore years,

Till my Deliv'rer come;
And wipe away his servant's tears,

And take his exile home. 3 O what hath Jesus brought for me !

Before my ravish'd eyes
Rivers of life divine I see,

And trees of paradise :
I see a world of spirits bright,

Who taste the pleasures there !
They all are rob'd in spotless white,

And conqu’ring palms they bear. 4. O, what are all my fuff'rings here,

If, Lord, thou count me meet
With that enraptur'd hoft t'appear,

And worship at thy feet!
Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,

Take life or friends away ;
But let me find them all again

In that eternal day.

HYMN CLXXXIX.

1 Happy soul, thy days are ended;

All thy mourning days below; Go by angel-guards attended,

To the fight of Jesus go.
2. Waiting to receive thy spirit,

Lo! the Saviour stands above,
Shews the purchase of his merit,

Reaches out the crown of love. 3 Struggle through thy latest passion,

To thy dear Redeemer's breast,
To his uttermost salvation,

To his everlasting reft.
4 For the joy he rets before thee,

Bear a momentary pain ;
Die, to live a life of glory,
Suffer, with thy Lord to reign.

HYMN CXC.
I Head of the church triumphant,
We joyfully adore thee,

Till thou appear

Thy members here
Shall fing like those in glory.
We lift our hearts and voices,
With bleft anticipation ;

And cry aloud,

And give to God
The praise of our salvation.
2 While in affliction's furnace,
And palling through the fire,

Thy love we praise,

Which knows no days, And ever brings us nigher.

We clap our hands exulting
In thine almighty favour ;
. The love divine,

Which made us thine,
Shall keep us thine for ever.
3 Thou doft conduct thy people
Through torrents of temptation ;

Nor will we fear,

While thou art near,
The fire of tribulation :
The world with fin and Satan,
In vain our march opposes;

By thee we shall

Break thro' them all,
And fing the song of Moses.
4 By faith we see the glory
To which thou shalt restore us,

The cross defpise

For that bigh prize Which thou haft ret before us : And if thou count us worthy, We each, as dying Stephen,

Shall see thee stand

At God's right-hand,
To take us up to heaven.

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Lord, I adore thy gracious will,
Thro' ev'ry instrument of ill.

My Father's goodness fee :
Accept the complicated wrong
Of Shemei's hand and Shemei's tongue,

As kind rebukes from thee.

HYMN CXCII.

I Jesu, the weary'wand'rer's reft,

Give me thy easy yoke to bear ; With stedfast patience arm my breast,

With fpotless love, and lowly fear. 2 Thankful I take the cup from thee,

Prepar'd and mingled by thy skill, Tho' bitter to the taste it be,

Pow'tful the wounded foul to heal. 3 Be thou, o Rock of Ages, nigh!

So Thall each murin'ring thought be gone; And grief, and fear, and care shall'fly

As clouds before the mid-day sun. 4 Speak to my warring paflions, “ Peace;"

Say to my trembling heart, “ Be ftill;". Thy pow'r my strength and fortress is,

For all things serve thy sov’reign will,
s o death! where is thy fting? where now

Thy boasted victory, O grave ?
Who shall contend with God? or who

Can hurt, whom God delights to faye ?

HYMN CXCIII.

1 W hy should I doubt his love at laft,

With anxious thoughts perplext?
Who fav’d me in the troubles paft,

Will save me in the next.
2 Will save, till at my latest hour

With inore than conquest bleft,
I foar beyond temptation's pow'r,

To my Redeemer's breast.

FUNER A L.
HYMN cxciv.

I AH! lovely appearance of death,

What fight upon earth is so fair?
Not all the gay pageants that breathe,

Can with a dead body compare :
With folemn delight I survey

The corpse when the spirit is fled,
In love with the beautiful clay,

And longing to lie in its ftead. 2 How blest is our brother, bereft

Of all that could burden bis mind; How easy the soul that has left

. This wearis me body behind !
Of evil incapable thou,

Whose relics with envy I see,
No longer in misery now,

No longer a finner like me. 3 This earth is affected no more

With sickness, or fhaken with pain :
The war in the members is o'er,

And never shall vex him again :
No anger kenceforward, or Thame,

Shall redden this innocent clay;
Extinct is the animal Alame,

And passion is vanith'd away. 4 This languishing head is at reft,

Its thinking and aching are o'er ;
This quiet immovable breast

Is heav'd by affliion no more :
This heart is no longer the seat

Of trouble and torturing pain;
It ceases to futter and beat,

It never fall flutter again.

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