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But the wide arms of mercy are spread to en
fold thee, And sinners may hope, for the sinless has died. 3 Thou art gone to the grave! and, its mansion
forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in fear lingered
long; But the mild rays of Paradise beamed on thy
waking, And the sound which thou heard'st was the
seraphim's song. 4 Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not de
plore thee, Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian
and guide; He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore
thee, And death has no sting, for the Saviour has
157. The Death of a Teacher. 12's & li's M.
Scotland. 1 Though lost to our sight, we may not deplore
thee, The clear light of faith shall illumine thy
road; All through the dark valley shall angels watch
o'er thee, And guide thee in peace to the home of thy
2 Thy heart, while on earth, in his praises de
DEATH OF A PUPIL.
And now, by life's shadows no longer benighted, Thou wilt love him, and praise him, in lea
3 And there may we meet when life shall be ended,
All tears wiped away, and all errors forgiven, And there may our prayers together be blended In the sweet song of praise to our Master in
For we shall meet no more,
On Zion's happy shore.
The cold and lifeless clay
And there it must decay.
His happy spirit flies
The long expected prize.
Soon we shall rise with thee;
How great our joys shall be.
159. The Death of a Pupil.
Tell us that one we loved to meet
Will join our youthful throng no more,
T'ill all these changing scenes are o'er.
Shall fill the teacher's listening ear;
The songs that of a Saviour tell,
And sprightly form, must buried lie;
The rayless night that fills the tomb.
How near or distant is the day
To lay us in our narrow hone.
How vain and fleeting is our breath ;
160. The Death of a Pupil.
Our humble prayer to pour;
Shall mingle here no more.
That beamed with joy and love;
Who gave it from above.
6 Let little children come;"
To seek that better home.
THIS WORLD NOT OUR HOME, 161, 162,
Thoughts on Death, S, M,
To leave this world of ours,
And summer's fading flowers.
2 Beyond the hills that stand
In majesty alone,
And there our Father's throne.
3 No mortal step can tread
Upon a shore so fair;
But'angel harps are there.
4 And thither soars the soul,
When life's brief day is done,-
For each immortal one.
5 Then shall we turn away,
When God would call us home ?
Lord ! at thy call we come.
162. This World not our Home. C. M,
Where I must always stay;
Until a brighter day.
2 Earth is the school where I must learn
To do my Father's will,
I may be with him still.
My selfishness subdue.
My feeble strength renew,
To meet a Father's love,
In that bright home above.
C. M. Jordan.
Watts. 1 There is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign;
And pleasures banish pain.
And never-fading flowers ;
This heavenly land from ours.
Stand dressed in living green;
While Jordan rolled between.
4 But timorous mortals start, and shrink,
To cross the narrow sea;
And fear to launch away.