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Trusting in thee alone!
Then leave our dying one
In peace with all mankind,
For pleasures all refined.
Let some kind seraph come,
To our celestial home!
May we but have a view !
Thine eye is ever fixed on me;
Encompassed by thy deity.
When, health and hope and comfort flown I must go down into the vale
And shade of death, with thee alone :
Uphold me through mine agony,
4 Then, when th' unbodied spirit lands
Where flesh and blood have never trod,
Of thee, my Saviour and my God : 5 Be mine eternal portion this,
Since thou wert always here with me,
And be for evermore with thee. 541.
Down to the regions of the dead !
Nor can we measure back our day.
Know, O my soul! this doom my own;
The same my way, my home the same.
And lose in this each mortal care;
Which, through the grave, conducts to Goa. 4 Father! to thee my all I trust;
And if thou call me down to dust,
And die in peace at thy command. 542.
Quit, О quit this mortal frame !
2 Hark! they whisper! angels say
“ Sister spirit, come away !”.
Tell me, my soul, can this be death ?
Heaven opens on my eyes !- my ears
Mrs. BA BAULD. Death of the Righteous. . . 1 Sweet is the scene when virtue dies !
When sinks a righteous soul to rest;
How gently heaves th' expiring breast ! 2 So fades a summer cloud away,
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er,
So dies a wave along the shore.
Where lights and shades alternate dwell • How bright th' unchanging morn appears.
Farewell, inconstant world, farewell 4 Life's duty done, as sinks the clay,
Light from its load the spirit flies; While heaven and earth combine to say, “ How blessed the righteous when he dies!
It melts in deeper gloom;
Descending to the tomb.
Scarce whispers from the tree !
When good men cease to be.
The crimson light is shed!
To mourners round his bed.
The sunset beam is cast!
When loved ones breathe their last.
The vesper star appears!
Whose eyes are dim with tears.
Its glories shall restore;
Shall wake, to close no more.
Let them mingle — for they must
2 Never more shall midnight's damp
Darken round this mortal lamp;
3 Deep the pit, and cold the bed,
Where the spoils of death are laid;
Of man's melancholy tomb.
Death cannot the soul imprison;
Warts The Same. 1 UNVELL thy bosom, faithful tomb !
Take this new treasure to thy trust, And give these sacred relics room
To seek a slumber in thy dust. 2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear,
Inva le thy bounds; no mortal woes Can reach the peaceful sleeper here,
While angels watch the soft repose. 3 So Jesus slept; God's dying Son
Passed through the grave, and blessed the bed Then rest, dear saint, till from his throne
The morning break, and pierce the shade. 4 Break from his throne, illustrious morn!
Attend, 0 earth, his sovereign word ! Restore thy trust! the glorious form Shall then arise to meet the Lord.