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Shall rise in full immortal prime
And bloom to fade no more. 5 Then cease, fond nature! cease thy tears
Religion points on high:
C. M. 715. At the Funeral of a young Person. ! WHEN blooming youth is snatch'd awam
By death's resistless hand,
Which pity must demand.
O, may this truth, imprest
Sink deep in every breast.
Behold the gaping tomb!
To-morrow death may come.
May every heart obey;
Which calls to watch and pray.
Whose powerful arm can save; Then shall our hopes ascend on high,
And triumph o'er the grave.
With cleansing, healing power;
P. M. 716.
The dying Christian. 1" SPIRIT---leave thine house of clay!
Lingering dust-resign thy breatin!
Spirit-cast thy chains away!
All the region of the sky!
Grave—the treasury of the skies!
Escap'd the prison of his clay,
To heav'n directs his wond’rous way.
Ye winds, that wafted oft his sighs,
When sorrow's shadows veil'd his eyes; 9 No more the weary pilgrim mourns,
No more affliction wrings his heart; Th' unfetter'd soul to God returns
For ever he and anguish part! Receive, O earth, his faded form, In thy cold bosom let it lie;
Safe let it rest from ev'ry storin-
C. M. The Death and Burial of a Saint. 1 WHY do we mourn departing friends!
Or shake at death's alarms? Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to his arms. 2 Are we not tending upward too
As fast as time can move? Nor would we wish the hours more slow,
To keep us from our love. 3 Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb? There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
And left a long perfume. 4 The graves of all his saints he bless'd,
And soften'd every bed;
But with the dying Head?
And show'd our feet the way;
At the great rising-day.
And bid our kindred rise,
Ye saints, ascend the skies. 719.
The moment after death;
When yielding up his breath.
Before the willing spirit takes
Its mansions near the throne.
To trace the spirit's fiig!lt;
Which hides the world of light.
Saints are completely blest;
And with their Saviour rest.
Ifis face they always view, "Then let us foll’wers be of them,
That we may praise him too.
(490.) P. M. THEN life's tempestuous storms are o'er
How calm he meets the friendly shore, Who liv'd averse from sin! Such peace on virtue's path attends, That, where the sinner's pleasure ends,
The Christian's joys begin.
To lift his soul on high!
Who taught him how to die.
As from the sinner's breast:
And heals his soul with rest.
So calm my tv'ning close;
C. M. 721. Death and immediate Glory. 2 Cor. iv. 8. 1 THERE is a house, not made with hands,
Eternal and on high;
Till God shall bid it fly.
Must be dissolv'd and fall, Then, O my soul, with joy obey
Thy heavenly Father's call. 3 'Tis he, by his almighty grace,
That forms thee fit for heaven, And as an earnest of the place,
Has his own Spirit given. # We walk by faith of joys to come
Faith lives upon his word; But while the body is our home
We're absent from the Lord.
But we had rather see;
And present, Lord, with thee. 722.
(491.) C. M. Blessed are they that die in the Lord HARK! from on high a solemn voice; "I will make each pious heart rejoice,
And vanquish ev'ry fear. 2 « Thrice blessed are the pious dead;
Who in the Lord shall die; Their weary flesh, as on a bed, Safe in the grave shall lie.