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4 Lo! I hear the air resounding
With expiring insect's cries;
Ah! the moans, to me how wounding,
Emblems of my wretched sighs!
Hollow winds about are roaring,
Noisy waters round me rise,
While I sit my fate deploring,
Tears fast streaming from my eyes.

5 What to me are autumn's treasures,
Since I know no earthly joy?
Long I've lost all youthful pleasures,
Time must youth and and health dstroy
Pleasures once I fondly courted,
Shar'd each bliss that youth bestows;
But to see where then I sported,
Now embitters all my woes !

Age and sorrow since have blasted
Every youthful, pleasing dream;
Quiv'ring age with youth contrasted,
Oh how short their glories seem!
As the annual frosts are cropping
Leaves and tendrils from the trees,
So my friends are yearly dropping.
Through old age and dire disease.

Former friends, how oft I've sought 'em,
Just to cheer my drooping mind;
But they're gone like leaves in autumn,
Driven before the dreary wind.

When a few more years I've wasted. When a few more springs are o'er, When a few more griefs I've tasted, I shall live to die no more.

8 Fast my sun of life's declining,
I must sleep in death's dark night;
But my hope, pure and refining,
Rests in future life and light.
Cease this trembling, fearing, sighing,
Christ will burst the silent tomb;
Then the saints shall, upwards flying,
Rise into immortal bloom!

M

HYMN 127.-L. M.

The parting hand.

Y dearest friends in bonds of love, Our hearts in sweetest union prove Your friendship like a drawing band, Yet, we must take the parting hand. Your presence sweet, your union dear, Your words delightful to my ear, And when I see that we must part, You draw like cords around my heart. 2 How sweet the hours have pass'd away, When we have met to sing and pray, How loth I've been to leave the place, When Jesus shews his smiling face: O could I stay with friends so kind,

How would it cheer my strug'ling mind; But duty makes me understand,

That we must take the parting hand.

3 And Since it is God's holy will,
We must be parted for a while,
In sweet submission, all in one,
We'll say, our father's will be done.
Dear fellow youth in christian ties,
Who seek for mansions in the skies-
Fight on, you'll win that happy shore,
Where parting hands are known no more.

4 How oft I've seen the flowing tears,
And heard you tell your hopes and fears,
Your hearts with love have seem'd to flame
Which makes me hope we'll meet again.
Ye mourning souls in sad surprise,
Jesus remembers all your cries;
O taste his grace, in all that land
We'll no more take the parting hand.

W

HYMN 128.-8 & 7.

Female Pilgrim.

THITHER goest thou, Pilgrim stranger,

Wand'ring through this lonely vale? Know'st thou not 'tis full of danger, And will not thy courage fail !

CHORUS.

No! I'm bound for the kingdom,
Will you go to glory with me?
Hallelujah, oh! hallelujah,

I am bound, &c, praise ye the Lord.

2 Pilgrim thou hast justly call'd me, Passing through this waste so wide; But no harm will e'er befal me,

While I'm bless'd with such alguide.

3 Such a guide! no guide attends thes, Thence for thee my fears arise; If some guardian power attends thee, 'Tis unseen by mortal eyes.

4 Tis unseen, but still believe me,
Such a guide my steps attend;
He'll in ev'ry strait relieve me,
He will guide me to the end

5 Pilgrim, see that stream before thee-
Darkly winding through the vale;
Should its deadly waves roll o'er thee,
Would not then thy courage fail?
No, I'm bound, &c.

No, that stream has nothing frightful, To its brink my steps l'll bend;

Thence to plunge 'twill be delightful,
Then my pilgrimage will end.

7 Whilst I gaz'd with sight surprising, Down the stream she plung'd frem sight

Gazing still-I saw her rising

Like an angel cloth'd with light.

Cease, my heart, this mourning, crying,
Christ will burst this sullen gloom;

Soon my spirit, flatt'ring, flying,
Will be borne beyond the tomb ;
For I'm bound, &c.

HYMN 129.--8 § 7.

'ER the gloomy hills of darkness
Look my soul, with wonder gaze,
All the promises do travail
With a glorious day of grace.
Blessed Jubilee,

Let thy glorious morning dawn.

2 Let the Indian, let the negro,
Let the rude barbarian see

That divine and glorious conquest,
Once obtain'd on Calvary.

Let the gospel

Fill the world with joy and praise.

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