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DEATH OF A CHILD. 150,
I would not live alway; no, welcome the tomb Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom.
2 Who, who would live alway, away from his God? Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode, Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains, And the noontide of glory eternally reigns:
3 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet, While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, And the smile of the Lord is the life of the soul.
150. Death of a Child. C. M. Dundee. 1 T is Jesus speaks! I fold, says he, These lambs within my breast; Protection they shall find in me, In me be ever blessed.
2 Death may the bands of life unloose,
3 Their feeble frames my power shall raise,
4 His words the happy parents hear,
151, 152. DEATH OF A FELLow PUPIL.
151. Death of a Pious Child. S. M.
2 It gently sinks to rest,
3 The spirit is not dead,
4 That death is but a sleep
152. Death of a Fellow Pupil. C. M.
2 Not long ago, he filled his place,
DEATH of A MOTHER. 153,
3 Perhaps our time may be as short,
4 All needful strength is thine to give ;
153. Death of a Mother. L. M. Wells. 1 THE bosom where I oft have lain, And slept my infant hours away, Will never beat for me again; For it lies dead, and wrapt in clay.
2 How many were the silent prayers - My mother offered up for me ! How many were the bitter cares She felt, when none but God could see.
3 Now she is gone, and high in heaven
4 O let me think of all she said,
5 And let me choose the path she chose,
154. THE GRAVE.
154. The Grave. H. M.
2 O if, on yonder side,
3 With earnest hope and fear,
4 Well, let the name be mine,
5 Then though the grassy bed,
Dr RGE, 155, 156.
155. Funeral Hymn. L. M. Stonefield. Watts. ." 1 UNveil, thy bosom, faithful tomb Take this new treasure to thy trust, And give these sacred relics room, To slumber in thy silent dust.
2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear
3 Thus Jesus slept; God's dying Son Passed through the grave, and blessed the bed :
Then rest, dear saint, till from his throne
4 Break from his throne, illustrious morn!
156. Dirge. 12's & 11's M. Scotland. Heber. 1 Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee, Though sorrow 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 paths of the world by thy side;