8 Then leaving all I lov❜d below,
To God's tribunal I must go;

Must hear the judge pronounce my fate,
And fix my everlasting state.

4 Lord Jesus! help me now to flee,
And seek my hope alone in thee;
Apply thy blood, thy Spirit give,
Subdue my sin, and let me live.

5 Then when the solemn bell I hear,
If sav'd from guilt, I need not fear;
Nor would the thought distressing be,
Perhaps it next may toll for me.

700.

1 W

C. M.

The Sting of Death is Sin.

HENCE has the world her magic power!
Why deem we death a foe?

Recoil from weary life's best hour,

And covet longer wo?

2 The cause is conscience-conscience oft
Her tale of guilt renews;

Her voice is terrible, though soft,
And dread of death ensues.

3 Then anxious to be longer spar'd,
Man mourns his fleeting breath;
All evils then seem light, compar'd
With the approach of death.

'Tis judgment shakes him-there's the fear
That prompts the wish to stay:
He has incurr'd a long arrear,

And must despair to pay.

5 Pay!-follow Christ, and all is paid;
His death your peace ensures;

Think on the grave where he was laid,
And calm descend to yours.

701.

1

(472.) C. M. The voice of the tomb.

HARK! from the tombs a doleful sound My ears attend the cry:

"Ye living men, come view the ground Where you must shortly lie.

your

bed

2 "Princes, this clay must be
In spite of all your towers!
The tall, the wise, the rev'rend head,
Must lie as low as ours."

8 Great God! is this our certain doom?
And are we still secure?

Still walking downward to the tomb,
And yet prepare no more!

4 Grant us the pow'r of quick'ning grace
To fit our souls to fly:
Then, when we drop this dying flesh,
We'll rise above the sky.

(473.) C. M. 702. The vanity of man as mortal. 1 TEACH me the measure of my days. Thou Maker of my frame!

I would survey life's narrow space,
And learn how frail I am.

2 A span is all that we can boast;
A fleeting hour of time:
Man is but vanity and dust,

In all his flow'r and prime.

3 See the vain race of mortals move,
Like shadows o'er the plain:

They rage and strive, desire and love,
But all the noise is vain.

4 Some walk in honour's gaudy show;
Some dig for golden ore;

They toil for heirs they know not who,
And straight are seen no more.

5 What should I wish or wait for then,
From creatures, earth and dust?
They make our expectations vain,
And disappoint our trust.

6 Now I resign my earthly hope,
My fond desires recall;

I give my mortal int'rest up,
And make my God my all.

703.

1

THEE we adore, eternal Name!
And humbly own to thee,

How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying worms are we.

2 Our wasting lives are short'ning still,
As months and days increase;
And ev'ry beating pulse we tell

Leaves but the number less.

3 Dangers stand thick through all the ground, To push us to the tomb;

And fierce diseases wait around,

To hurry mortals home.

4 Good God! on what a slender thread,
Hang everlasting things!
Th' eternal states of all the dead,
Upon life's feeble strings.

5 Yet while a world of joy or wo
Depends on ev'ry breath,
Thoughtless and unconcern'd we go
Upon the brink of death.

Waken, O Lord! our drowsy sense,
To walk this dang'rous road;
And if our souls are hurried hence,
May they be found with God!

704.

(475.) L. M.

1 THAT awful hour will soon appear,
Swift on the wings of time it flies
When all that pains or pleases here,
Will vanish from my closing eyes.

2 Death calls my friends, my neighbours hence
And none resist the fatal dart:
Continual warnings strike my sense,
And shall they fail to strike my heart?

3 Think, O my soul! how much depends
On the short period of to-day:
Shall time, which heav'n in mercy lends,
Be negligently thrown away?

4 Thy remnant minutes strive to use;
Awake, rouse ev'ry active pow'r;
And not in dreams and trifles lose
This little, this important hour!

5 Lord of my life, inspire my heart
With heav'nly ardour, grace divine;
Nor let thy presence e'er depart,

For strength, and life, and death are thine

6 O teach me the celestial skill,

Each awful warning to improve:

And, while my days are short'ning still,
Prepare me for the joys above!

705.

1

G

(478.) L. M.

Numbering our days.

MOD of eternity! from thee

Did infant time his being draw;

Moments and days, and months and years,
Revolve, by thy unvaried law.

2 Silent and slow they glide away;

Steady and strong the current flows;

Lost in eternity's wide sea,

The Loundless gulf from which it rose.
482

Thoughtless and vain, our mortal race
Along the mighty stream are borne
On to their everlasting home,-

That country whence there's no return.
4 Yet while the shore on either side
Presents a gaudy, flatt'ring show,
We gaze, in fond amazement lost,
Nor think to what a world we go.

5 Great source of wisdom! teach my heart
To know the price of ev'ry hour;
That time may bear me on to joys
Beyond its measure and its pow'r.

706.

(481.) L. M.
Man fading and reviving.

1 THE morning flow'rs display their sweets,
And gay their silken leaves unfold,
As careless of the noon-day heats
And fearless of the ev'ning cold.

2 Nipt by the wind's untimely blast,
Parch'd by the sun's directer ray,
The momentary glories waste,

The short-liv'd beauties die away. 3 So blooms the human face divine, When youth its pride and beauty shows; Fairer than spring the colours shine And sweeter than the virgin rose.

4 Or worn by slowly rolling years,
Or broke by sickness in a day,
The fading glory disappears,

The short-liv'd beauties die away.
5 Yet these, new-rising from the tomb,
With lustre brighter far shall shine;
Revive with ever-during bloom,

Safe from diseases and decline.

6 Let sickness blast and death devour,
If heav'n must recompense our pains;