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I A nd let this feeble body fail,
And let it faint or die;
And foar to worlds on high :
And find its long-fought reft,
In the Redeemer's breaft.
I now the cross fuftain,
And smile at toil and pain :
Till my Deliv'rer come;
And take his exile home. 3 O what hath Jesus brought for me !
Before my ravish'd eyes
And trees of paradise :
Who taste the pleasures there !
And conqu’ring palms they bear. 4. O, what are all my fuff'rings here,
If, Lord, thou count me meet
And worship at thy feet!
Take life or friends away ;
In that eternal day.
1 Happy soul, thy days are ended;
All thy mourning days below; Go by angel-guards attended,
To the fight of Jesus go.
Lo! the Saviour stands above,
Reaches out the crown of love. 3 Struggle through thy latest passion,
To thy dear Redeemer's breast,
To his everlasting reft.
Bear a momentary pain ;
Till thou appear
Thy members here
And cry aloud,
And give to God
Thy love we praise,
Which knows no days, And ever brings us nigher.
We clap our hands exulting
Which made us thine,
Nor will we fear,
While thou art near,
By thee we shall
Break thro' them all,
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,
Lord, I adore thy gracious will,
My Father's goodness fee :
As kind rebukes from thee.
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,
Thy boasted victory, O grave ?
Can hurt, whom God delights to faye ?
1 W hy should I doubt his love at laft,
With anxious thoughts perplext?
Will save me in the next.
With inore than conquest bleft,
To my Redeemer's breast.
FUNER A L.
I AH! lovely appearance of death,
What fight upon earth is so fair?
Can with a dead body compare :
The corpse when the spirit is fled,
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 !
Whose relics with envy I see,
No longer a finner like me. 3 This earth is affected no more
With sickness, or fhaken with pain :
And never shall vex him again :
Shall redden this innocent clay;
And passion is vanith'd away. 4 This languishing head is at reft,
Its thinking and aching are o'er ;
Is heav'd by affliion no more :
Of trouble and torturing pain;
It never fall flutter again.