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Nor would l urge a speedier flight,
Where thou determin'st mine abode,
For in thy presence death is life,
Hymn 125. C. M.
Old Age. Isaiah xlvi. 4. My flying years, time urges on ; What's mortal must decay; My friends—my youth's companions gone, Can I expect to stay ? Can I exemption plead, when death Projects his awful dart? Can med'cine then prolong my breath? Or virtue shield my heart? Oh! no—then smooth, O Lord, the hour; On thee my hope depends; s"Woo me with almighty pow'r, hile dust to dust descends. Then shall my soul, G gracious God! (While angels guard the way,) With rapture haste to thine abode, To dwell in endless day. Through heav'n, howe'er remote the bound, Thy love I'll then proclaim; And join the choir of saints that sound Their great Redeemer's name.
And is a father dead?
Behold, a family bereav'd,
What sorrow swells the widow’s breast !
Gone is the friend, who shared her heart,
The children mourn a father's death,
Then sorrow moves a mother's heart,
Ye mourning friends, approach your God,
The hand which wounds can also heal,
He bids the widow trust in him,
On the Death of a Father. Though nature's voice you must obey, Think, while your swelling griefs o'erflow, That hand which takes your joys away, That sovereign hand can heal your wo. And while your mournful thoughts deplore The father gone, remov’d the friend With heart resign'd, his grace adore, On whom your nobler hopes depend. Does he not bid his children rise, Through death's dark shade, to realms of light?
Yet when he calls them to the skies,
Reanimation.—A Hymn for the Humane Society,
1 WHo, from the gloomy shades of night,
2 No human skill that heart can warm,
O let us suppliant at thy throne,
- * -
1 WHEN all the mercies, of my God,
My rising soul surveys;
Why my cold heart art thou not lost,
In wonder, love and praise?
Thy providence my life sustain'd,
Whilst in the silent womb I lay,
3 To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,
4 Unnumber'd comforts on my soul
Thy tender care bestow'd,
5 When in the slippery paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
And led me up to man.
It gently clear'd my way;
Thy goodness I’ll pursué;
Hymn 130. S. M. JMorning Song. I BEhold the rising sun Pursues his shining way : And wide proclaims his Maker's praise, With ev'ry bright'ning ray. w 2 Thus would my rising soul * Its heav'nly parent sing; And to its great original The humble tribute bring.
2 Serene I laid me down
4 Thus does thine arm support *
5 O how shall I repay
6 Blest Saviour, to thy cross
Hymn 131. S. M.