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3 Their holy souls, at length releas'l,
To heav'n shall take their flight; There to enjoy eternal rest,
And infinite delight.
And quit this world of wo;
Their rest no period know.
For evermore shall cease;
Nor interrupt their peace.
Their faithful service here;
Each gloomy doubt and fear.”
L. M. 723.
The grave. Job iii, 17. 1 THE grave is now a favour'd spot,
To saints who sleep, in Jesus bless'd; For there the wicked trouble not,
And there the weary are at rest. 2 At rest in Jesus' faithful arms;
At rest as in a peaceful bed;
Which round this sinful world are spread 3 Thrice happy souls, who're gone
But bright in endless glory shine.
Or in a gentle measure flow;
5. DEATH OF THE WICKED.
L. M. 724. The Death of the Sinner and the Saint WHAT scenes of horror and of dread
Await the sinner's dying bed! Death's terrors all appear in sight,
Presages of eternal night.
And fill his soul with sad surprise;
And not one ray of hope appears.
Where'er he turns he finds no rest:
And, in despair and horror dies.
His soul is fill'd with conscious peace;
He sees the happy Canaan near. 5 His mind is tranquil and serene;
No terrors in his looks are seen;
And smooths his passage to the tomb.
My judgment sound, my conscience clear
C. M. 725.
Death dreadful or delightful. DEATH! 'uis a melancholy day
To those that have no God, When the poor soul is forc'd away
To seek her last abode. 8 In vain to heaven she lifts her eyes But guilt, a heavy chain,
Still drags hier downward from the skies
To darkness, fire, and pain.
Let stubborn sinner's fear;
A long for ever there.
And fashes in your face! And thou, my soul, look downwards too,
And sing recovering grace. 5 Ile is a God of boundless love
That promis'd heaven to me,
Where happy spirits be.
Then come the joyful day,
C. M. 726.
The Death of a Sinner. 1 My thoughts on awful subjects roll,
Damnation and the dead: What horrors seize the guilty soul
Upon a dying bed!
She makes a long delay,
Death sweeps the wretch away.
Down to the fiery coast,
Herselt a frightful ghost.
And darkness makes their chains;
S Not all their anguish and their blood
l'or their old guilt atones, Nor the compassions of a Goil
Shall hearken to their groans.
Nor bid my soul remove,
And well ensur'd his love!
727. (498.) L. M.
I'll repine at death no more;
But, calm and cheerful, will resign To the cold dungeon of the grave,
These dying, with’ring limbs of mine. 2 Let worms devour my wasting flesh,
And crumble all my bones to dust; My God shall raise my frame anew
At the revival of the just. Break, sacred morning! through the skies,
And usher in that glorious day: Come quickly, Lord! cut short the hours:
Thy lingʻring wheels, how long they stay, flaste, then, upon the wings of love,
Rouse all the pious sleeping clay. That we may join in heav'nly joys,
And sing the triumph of the day.
L. M. 1 W!
THAT sinners value, I resign:
Lord! 'tis enough that thou art mine! I shall behold thy blissful face, And stand complete in righteousness.
2 This life's a dream, an empty show;
But the bright world, to which I go,
When shall I wake and find me there! 3 O glorious hour! O blest abode!
I shall be near and like my God;
Hope in the Resurrection. I THROUGH sorrows night and danger's pats We soldiers of an injur'd King
Are marching to the tomb. 2 There, when the turmoil is no more,
And all our powers decay, Our cold remains in solitude
Shall sleep the years away. 3 Our labours done, securely laid
In this our last retreat, Unheeded o'er our silent dust
The storms of life shall beat.
The vital spark sball lie,
To seek its kindred sky.
Our Father's care shall keep, Till the last angel rise, and break The long and dreary sleep.