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1 Calm on the bosom of thy God,

Fair spirit, rest thee now!
E'en whîle with us thy footstep trod,

His seal was on thy brow,
2 Dust, to its narrow house beneath !

Soul, to its place on high ! They that have seen thy look in death

No more máy fear to die.

S. M.

515.
1 1 Servant of God, well done!

Rest from thy loved employ;
The battle fought, the victory won,

Enter thy Master's joy.
2 The voice at midnight came;

He started up to hear,
The mortal arrow pierced his frame,

He fell, — but felt no fear. 3 Tranquil amidst alarms,

It found him on the field,
A veteran slumbering on his arms,

Beneath his red-cross shield. 4 At midnight came the cry,

“To meet thy God prepare !”

!
He woke, and caught his captain's eye;

Then strong in faith and prayer.

5

His spirit, with a bound,

Left its encumbering clay;
His tent, at sunrise, on the ground

A darkened ruin lay.

6 Soldier of Christ, well done!

Praise be thy new employ; And while eternal ages run,

Rest in thy Saviour's joy.

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1 Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not

deplore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encompass the

tomb: Thy Saviour has passed through its portal before

thee, And the lamp of his Love is thy guide through

the gloom!

2 Thou art gone to the grave ! we no longer behold

thee, Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy

side; But the wide arms of Mercy are spread to

enfold thee, And sinners may die, for the Sinless has died ! 3 Thou art gone to the grave! and, its mansion

forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in fear lingered long; But the mild rays of Paradise beamed on thy

waking, And the sound which thou heard'st was the

Seraphim's song! 4 Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not

deplore thee, Whose God is thy dwelling, thy guardian, and

guide; He gave thee, He took thee, and He will restore

thee, And Death has no sting, for the Saviour has

died !

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517. P. M.
1 Vital spark of heavenly flame!

Quit, О quit this mortal frame !
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying;
O the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,

And let me languish into life!
2 Hark, they whisper! angels say,

“Sister spirit, come away!”.
What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath ?
Tell me, my soul, --can this be death?

3 The world recedes ! — it disappears !

Heaven opens on my eyes ! — my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings ! I mount, I fly:
O grave ! where is thy victory?
o death! where is thy sting?

10s M.

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518.
1 Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime,

In full activity of zeal and power;
A Christian cannot die before his time-

The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour. 2 Go to the grave; at noon from labour cease;

Rest on thy sheaves, thy harvest-task is done; Come from the heart of battle, and in peace,

Soldier, go home; with thee the fight is won. 3 Go to the grave; though, like a fallen tree, At once with verdure, flowers, and fruitage

crowned;
Thy form may perish, and thy honours be

Lost in the mouldering bosom of the ground. 4 Go to the grave, for there thy Saviour lay

In death's embraces, ere he rose on high ;
And all the ransomed, by that narrow way,

Pass to eternal life beyond the sky.
5 Go to the grave;- no, take thy seat above;

Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord, Where thou, for faith and hope, hast perfect love, And open vision for the written word.

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519. P. M.

1 Great God! what do I see and hear !

The end of things created !
The Judge of mankind doth appear,

On clouds of glory seated!
The trumpet sounds! the graves restore
The dead which they contained before !

Prepare, my soull to meet Him.

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1 Lord! thou hast been Thy people's rest

Through all their generations; Their refuge when by dangers prest,

Their hope in tribulations; Thou, ere the mountains sprang to birth, Or ever Thou hadst formed the earth,

Art God from everlasting!

2 The sons of men return to clay

When Thou the word hast spoken, As with a torrent borne away,

Gone, like a dream when broken : A thousand years are, in Thy sight, But as a watch amid the night,

Or yesterday departed.

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