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"Therefore be ye also ready: for in such an hour as ye think not, the Son of man cometh."- ST. MATT. xxiv. 44.

H, to be ready when death shall come !

OH,

Oh, to be ready to hasten home!
No earthward clinging, no lingering gaze,
No strife at parting, no sore amaze ;
No chains to sever that earth hath twined,
No spell to loosen that love would bind.

No flitting shadows to dim the light Of the angel-pinions winged for flight; No cloud-like phantoms to fling a gloom 'Twixt heaven's bright portals and earth's dark tomb;

But sweetly, gently, to pass away

From the world's dim twilight into day.

To list the music of angel lyres,
To catch the rapture of seraph fires,
To lean in trust on the risen One,
Till borne away to a fadeless throne.
Oh, to be ready when death shall come!
Oh, to be ready to hasten home!

"I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end, the first and the last."- REV. xxii. 13.

JESUS, when my soul is parting

From this body frail and weak,

And the deathly dew is starting
Down this pale and wasted cheek,
Thine, my Saviour,

Be the name I last shall speak.

Jesus, when my memory wanders
Far from loved ones at my side,

And in fitful dreaming ponders
Who are they that near me glide, —
Last, my Saviour,

Let my thoughts on Thee abide.

When the morn in all its glory

Charms no more my ear nor eye, And the shadows closing o'er me Warn me of the time to die, Last, my Saviour,

Let me see Thee standing by.

When my feet shall pass the river,
And upon the farther shore
I shall walk, redeemed for ever,

Ne'er to sin, to die no more, -
First, Lord Jesus,

Let me see Thee, and adore.

"I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith."-2 TIM. iv. 7.

LORIOUS sunsets richly glowing

GLO

Strike the autumn wanderer's eye, Whence the holy thought comes flowing, Brightly thus may Christians die ; Bright may be the example given, Glowing with the dews of heaven.

Ir matters little at what hour of day
The righteous fall asleep: death cannot come
To him untimely who is fit to die;

The less of this cold world, the more of Heaven.
The briefer life, the earlier immortality.

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Let her leave thee with no strife,

Tender, mournful, murmuring life!

She hath seen her happy day;
She hath had her bud and blossom.
Now she pales and shrinks away,
Earth, into thy gentle bosom.

She hath done her bidding here,
Angels dear!

Bear her perfect soul above,
Seraphs of the skies, sweet Love!
Good she was, and fair in youth;
And her mind was seen to soar,
And her heart was wed to truth.
Take her, then, for evermore,
For ever, evermore!

"Let me go, for the day breaketh."- GEN. xxxii. 26

I'M kneeling at the threshold, weary, faint, and

sore;

Waiting for the dawning, for the opening of the

door;

Waiting till the Master shall bid me rise and

come

To the glory of His presence, to the gladness of His home.

A weary path I've travelled, 'mid darkness, storm, and strife;

Bearing many a burden, struggling for my life; But now the dawn is breaking, my toil will soon be o'er,

I'm kneeling at the threshold, my hand is on the door.

Methinks I hear the voices of the blessed as they stand,

Singing in the sunshine of the far-off sinless

land;

Oh, would that I were with them, amid their shining throng,

Mingling in their worship, and joining in their song!

The friends that started with me have entered

long ago:

One by one they left me struggling with the foe; Their pilgrimage was shorter, their triumphs

sooner won;

How lovingly they'll hail me, when all my

done!

toil is

With them the blessed angels, that know no grief nor sin;

I see them by the portals, prepared to let me in.

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