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2 How loud shall our glad voices sing,
When Christ his risen saints shall bring
From beds of dust, and sleeping clay,
To realms of everlasting day!

3 When Jesus we in glory meet,
Our utmost joys shall be complete ;
When landed on that heav'nly shore,
Death and the curse shall be no more.

HYMN 584. L. M.

Babylon, Carthage.

1 UR life how short! a groan, a sigh; We live and then begin to die :

But Oh! how great a mercy this,
That death's a portal into bliss!

2 My soul! death swallows up thy fears,
My grave-clothes wipe away all tears;
Why should we fear this parting pain,
Who die, that we may live again?

s Oh! how the resurrection light
Will clarify believer's sight;
How joyful will the saints arise,
And rub the dust from off their eyes!

4 My soul, my body I will trust,
With him who numbers every dust;
My Saviour faithfully will keep
His own their death is but a sleep.

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W

ADDISON.

Martyr's, Windsor, Colchester.

HEN rising from the bed of death,
O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,'

I see my Maker face to face

Oh, how shall I appear!

2 If yet, while pardon may be found,
And mercy may be sought,

My heart with inward horror shrinks,
And trembles at the thought:

3 When thou, O Lord! shalt stand disclos'd
In Majesty severe,

And sit in judgment on my soul,

Oh, how shall I appear.

4 Prepare me, Lord, to meet that day,
Ere yet it be too late,

When I shall view these solemn scenes,
And feel their awful weight.

HYMN 586.

C. M.

Elgin, Windsor.

WATTS.

1

Everlasting absence of God intolerable.

THA

HAT awful day will surely come, Th' appointed hour makes hasteWhen I must stand before my Judge, And pass the solemn test.

2 Thou lovely Chief of all my joys,
Thou Sov'reign of my heart,
How could I bear to hear thy voice
Pronounce the sound, Depart!

3 The thunder of that dismal word
Would so torment my ear,

"Twould tear my soul asunder, Lord,
With most tormenting fear.

4 What to be banish'd from my life,
And yet forbid to die!
To linger in eternal pain,
Yet death forever fly!

5 Oh, wretched state of deep despair
To see my God remove-
And fix my doleful station where
I must not taste his love!

6 Oh, tell me that my worthless name Is graven on thy hands;

1

Show me some promise in thy book,
Where my salvation stands.

HYMN 587. 8, 7, 4.

Littleton, Jordan.

Luke xiii. 28.

EE th' Eternal Judge descending-View him seated on his throne! Now, poor sinner, now lamenting, Stand and hear thy awful doomTrumpets call thee!

Stand and hear thy awful doom.

2 Hear the cries he now is venting,
Fill'd with dread of fiercer pain;
While in anguish thus lamenting,
That he ne'er was born again,
Greatly mourning,

That he ne'er was born again :
3 "Yonder sits my slighted Saviour,
With the marks of dying love;
Oh, that I had sought his favor,
When I felt his Spirit move-
Golden moments.

When I felt his Spirit move."

4 Now, despisers, look and wonder ! Hope and sinners here must part, Louder than a peal of thunder,

1

Hear the dreadful sound, "Depart !"
Lost forever,

Hear the dreadful sound, "Depart !"

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Northampton-Chapel, Tabernacle.

INNERS, take the friendly warningSoon that awful day shall break, And the trumpet with its dawning, All the slumb'ring millions wake. 2 See assembled ev'ry nation !Lofty cities, temples, tow'rs, Wrapt in dreadful conflagration, Earth and sea the flame devours. 3 Ye, who to the world dissemble, While you practice deeds of night,

Sinners, now behold and tremble ; All your crimes are brought to light. 4 Lost in ease, or carnal pleasure, Sporting on the burning brink; Now, you say, you have no leisure, You can find no time to think.

5 Ye-who now, conviction stifling,

Waste your time-the loss deplore; Hear the angel-cease your trifling— "Time," he cries, " shall be no more." 6 Pause, and hear the voice of reasonCatch the moments as they flyYou who lose the present season, You must all find time to die.

HYMN 589. L. M.

Surry, Warwick.

NEEDHAM.

The Books opened. Rev. xx. 12.

1M Methinks I hear the trumpet sound,

ETHINKS the last great day is come;

That shakes the earth, rends ev'ry tomb, And wakes the pris'ners under ground. 2 The mighty deep gives up her trust, Aw'd by the Judge's high command; Both small and great now quit their dust, And round the dread tribunal stand. 3 Behold the awful books display'd,

Big with th' important fates of men ; Each deed and word now public made, As wrote by heav'n's unerring pen.

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