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271 WHEN, O my Saviour, shall it be

That I no more shall break with Thee? When shall the strife of passions cease,

When shall my soul enjoy Thy peace ?
2 When, heavenly Lord, when shall I be,

A garden seal'd to all but Thee?
No more betray'd, no more undone,

But live and grow for Thee alone.
3 Oft I repent and sin again;

Now I revive, and now am slain ;
Slain with the same unhappy dart

That pierced before my heedless heart,
4 O, that this dying life might haste

To languish into life at last;
And O for wings to make the shore
Where I shall live, and sin no more,

272 THE Lord will happiness divine

On contrite hearts bestow :
Then tell me, gracious God, is mine

A contrite heart or no?
2 I hear, but seem to hear in vain,

Insensible as steel;
If aught is felt, 'tis only pain,

To find I cannot feel.
3 I sometimes think myself inclin'd

To love Thee, if I could
But often feel another mind,

Averse to all that's good.

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4 O make this heart rejoice or ache!

Decide this doubt for me ;
And if it be not broken, break,

And heal it, if it be.

DEATH.-HEAVEN.-ETERNITY. 273 WHEN the bell with solemn toll

Speaks a new departed soul,
Each should ask himself, “ Am I

"(Mortal too) prepar'd to die?"
2 Leaving all I love below,

Soon to God my soul must go;
From the Judge must hear my doom,

Fixing my eternal home.
3 Could I bear to hear Him say,
“ Hence, accursed far away,
Banish'd from


face to dwell
“ With accursed souls in hell ?"
4 Jesus, help me now to flee

Where I may be safe with Thee :
Thy renewing Spirit give :

Cleanse my soul, my sins forgive.
5 Sav'd from guilt, I need not fear

Though the tolling bell I hear :
Nor if soon it tolls for me

Should the thought alarming be.
6 Rather I might well rejoice,

Soon to hear my Saviour's voice;
Soon to bid the world farewell
And with Jesus ever dwell.

274 GREAT God, on what a slender thread

Hang everlasting things :
Th' eternal states of all the dead,

Upon life's feeble strings.
2 Infinite joy, or endless woe

Attends on ev'ry breath ;
And yet how unconcern'd we go,

Upon the brink of death :
3 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense,

To walk this dang’rous road :
And if our souls are hurried hence,

May they be found with God.

275 FATHER, when Thy child is dying,

On the bed of anguish lying,
Then, my every want supplying,

To me Thy love display.
2 Ere my soul her bonds has broken,

Grant some bright and cheering token
That for me the words are spoken,

“ Thy sins are wash'd away."
3 When, each well-known face concealing,

Death's dark shade o'er all is stealing,
Then, Thy gracious smile revealing,

Únfold eternal day.
4 When the lips are mute which blest me,

And withdrawn the hand that prest me,
Then let sweeter sounds arrest me,

Calling my soul away,

5 When my soul, no path discovering,

O'er my lifeless form is hovering,
Then, with wings of mercy covering,

Be Thou Thyself my way!

276 THO' in the earth I lay my head,

Yet gracious God, Thou wilt not leave Thy saints for ever with the dead,

Nor lose their bodies in the grave.
2 My flesh shall Thy first call obey,

Spring from the dust and mount on high;
While angels lead the wond'rous way

Up to thy Throne above the sky.
3 There streams of endless pleasure flow;

And full discov'ries of Thy grace,
(Which we but tasted here below)
Spread heav'nly joys thro' all the place.

277 IT is the Lord,— beneath his hand

How soon our feeble strength decays;
Disease and death at his command

Arrest us, and cut short our days.
2 Yet in the midst of death and pain,

This thought our sorrows should assuage,
That Jesus died and rose again,

And lives the same through ev'ry age.
3 Before his face his saints shall live,

And with Him on his Throne shall reign ;
The dying world they shall survive,
And their dead dust be rais'd agair

278 IN vain the fancy strives to paint

The moment after death;
The glory that surrounds the saint,

When he resigns his breath.

2 One gentle sigh his fetters breaks,

We scarce can utter, “ Gone,”
Before the willing spirit takes

Its station near the Throne.

3 Thus much (and this is all) we know

He shall with Jesus rest:
Has done with sin, and tears, and woe,

And is completely blest.

279“ WE'VE

WE'VE no abiding city here :”
This may distress the worldling's

But should not cost the saint a tear,

Who hopes a better rest to find.

2 “We've no abiding city here:"

Sad truth, were this to be our home; But (let the thought our spirits cheer)

We seek a city yet to come.

3 “We've no abiding city here:"

Then let us live as pilgrims do;
Let not the world our rest appear,

But let us haste from all below,

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