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HYMN 55. B. 2. C. M. 6 6 [The busy tribes of flesh and blood,
Abridge, Windsor.

With all their lives and cares,
Frail life and succeeding eternity. Are carry'd downward by the flood,
1 THEE we adore, Eternal Name, And lost in following years.
And humbly own to thee

7 Time, like an ever-rolling stream, How feeble is our mortal frame: Bears all its sons away ; What dying worms are we!

They fly, forgotten, as a dream 3 [Our wasting lives grow shorter still, Dies at the opening day. As months and days increase;

8 Like flowery fields the nations stand, And every beating pulse we tell Pleasd with the morning light;

Leaves but the number less. The flowers beneath the mower's hand 3 The year rolls round, and steals away Lie withering ere 'tis night.]

The breath that first it gave; 9 Our God, our help in ages past, Whate'er we do, where'er we be,

Our hope for years to come, We're travelling to the grave.] Be thou our guard while troubles last, 4 Dangers stand thick through all the And our eternal home. To push us to the tomb; [ground, fierce

PSALM 90. S. M. b To hurry mortals home. 5 Good God, on what a slender thread The frailty and shortness of life. Hang everlasting things!

1 LORD, what a feeble piece Th' eternal states of all the dead

Is this our mortal frame! Upon life's feeble strings !

Our life, how poor à trifle 'tis, 6 Infinite joy, or endless wo

That scarce deserves the name. Attends on every breath ; 2 Alas! the brittle clay And yet how unconcern'd we go That built our body first ! Upon the brink of death!

And every month and every day 7 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense 'Tis mouldering back to dust.

To walk this dangerous road; 3 Our moments fly apace,
And, if our souls are hurry'd hence, Nor will our minutes stay;
May they be found with God. Just like a flood our hasty days

Are sweeping us away.
PSALM 90. 1st Part. C. M. b 4 Well, if our days must fly,
Durham, Plympton.

We'll keep their end in sight; Man frail, und God eternal. We'll spend them all in wisdom's way, UR God, our help in ages past

And let them speed their figlit. Our shelter from the stormy blast, This life's tempestuous sea : And our eternal home;

Soon we shall reach the peaceful shore 2 Under the shadow of thy throne

Of blest eternity.
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Suficient is thine arm alone,

And our defence is sure. 3 Before the hills in order stood, DEATH AND THE RESUROr earth receiv'd her frame,

From everlasting thou art God,
To endless years the same.

PSALM 90. L. M. b “Return. ye sons of men :"

Putney, Armley. All nations rose from earth at first, Man mortal, and God eternal, And turn to earth again.

A mournful song at a funeral. 5 A thousand ages in thy sight -1 Are like an evening gone;

Thou art our rest, our safe abode : Short as the watch that ends the night, High was thy throne ere hcaven was made, Before the rising sun.

-Or earth thy humble footstool laid, WATTS.



'OUBWC hope for years as escome, 5 They'll waft us sooner o'er

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4 Thy word commands our flesh to dust, 618}

? Long hadst thou reign'd ere time began, 6 Before thy face thy church shall live, Or dust was fashion'd into man; And on thy throne thy children reign; And long thy kingdom shall endure, This dying world shall they survive When earth and time shall be no more. And the dead saints be rais'd again. 3 But man, weak man is 'born to die,

HYMN 52. B. 2. C. M. b Thy dreadful sentence, Lord, was just

, 620}

Chelsea, Canterbury. “Return, ye sinners, to your dust.”'

Death dreadful, or delightful. 4(A thousand of our years amount Scarce to a day in thine account; 'DE

EATH! 'tis a melancholy day Like yesterday's departed light,

To those that have no God, Or thě last watch of ending night.] When the poor soul is forc'd away

To seek her last abode. PAUSE. -5 Death, like an overflowing stream,

2 In vain to heaven she lifts her eyes; Sweeps us away; our life's a dream; But guilt, a heavy chain, An empty tale; a morning flower,

Still drags her downward from the skies, Cut down and wither'd in an hour. To darkness, fire, and pain. 6 (Our age to seventy years is set: 1/3 Awake, and mourn, ye heirs of hell, How short the term ! how frail the state Let stubborn sinners fear; And if to eighty we arrive,

You must be driv’n from earth, and dwell We rather sigh and groan than live. A long FOREVER there! 7 But o how oft thy wrath appears, 4 See how the pit gapes wide for you, And cuts off our expected years : And fashes in your face; Thy wrath awakes our humble dread; And thou, my soul, look downward ton, We fear the power that strikes us dead.] And sing recovering grace. 8 Teach us, O Lord, how frail is man: 15 He is a God of sovereign love, And kindly lengthen out our span, Till a wise care of piety

Who promis'd heaven to me,

And taught my thoughts to soar above, Fit us to die and dwell with thee.

Where happy spirits be. PSALM 102. 28 Part. L. M. 66 Prepare me,Lord, for thy right hand, ,

Then come the joyful day; Man's mortality and Christ's eternity; or, saints

Come, death, and some celestial band, die, but Christ and the church live.

To bear my soul away.
T is the Lord our Saviour's hand

HYMN 17. B. 1. C. M. X Disease and death, at his command, 621

St. James, Mear, Arrest uş, and cut short our days. 2 Spare us, O Lord, aloud we pray,

Victory over death. Nor let our sun go down at noon;


O For an overcoming faith Thy years are one eternal day,

To cheer my dying hours, And must thy children die so soon :) To triumph o'er the monster, death,

And all his frightful powers. 3 Yet, in the midst of death and grief, This thought our sorrow shall assuage; 2 Joyful, with all the strength I have, " Our Father and our Saviour live ; My quivering lips should sing, s Christ is the same through every age.

"Where is thy boasted victory, grave?

“ And where the monster's sting?" 4 'Twas he this earth's foundation laid, Heaven is the building of his hand; 3 If sin be pardon'd, I'm secure; This earth grows old, these heavens shall Death hath no sting beside ; fade;

The law gives sin its damning power; And all be chang'd at his command. But Christ, my ransom, died. 5 The starry curtains of the sky, 4 Now to the God of victory Like garments, shall be laid aside ; Immortal thanks be paid, t still thy throne stands firm and high, who makes us conquerors, while we die, church forever must abide.

Through Christ, our living head.

619} 'Limehouse, German Hymn.


HYMN 6. B. 1. C. M. 622}

* 4Clasp'd in my heavenly Father's arms, York, London.

I would forget my breath,
Triumph over death

And lose my life among the charms

Of so divine a death. GREAT GodLowathy sentence just,

Hymn 19. B. 1. C.M. * I yield my body to the dust, 625} To dwell with fellow clay.

Braintree, St. Davids. 2 Yet faith may triumph o'er the grave,

The song of Simeon; or, death mode desirable. And trample on the tombs; 1 LORD at thy temple we appear, My Jesus, my Redeemer lives, My God, my Saviour comes.

And hope to meet our Saviour here; 3 The mighty Conqueror shall appear 2 With what divine and vast delight

O make our joys the same!
High on a royal seat,
And death, the last of all his foes,

The good old man was fill'd, Lie vanquish'd at his feet. When fondly in his wither'd arms

He clasp'd the holy child! 4 Though greedy worms devour my skin, And gnaw my wasting flesh,

3“Now I can leave this world," he cried; When God shall build my bones again, I've seen thy great salvation, Lord !

“ Behold thy servant dies ! He'll clothe then all afresh.

" And close my peaceful eyes. 5 Then shall I see thy lovely face With strong, immortal eyes,

4.“This is the Light prepar'd to shine And feast upon thy unknown grace, « l'hine Israel's glory, and their hope,

Upon the Gentile lands ;
With pleasure and surprise.

" To break their slavish bands, Hymn 18. B. 1. C. M. b 5 (Jesus! the vision of thy face Durham, Windsor.

Hath overpowering charms ! Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord. Scarce shall I feel death's cold embrace,

If Christ be in my arms. * HEAR what the voice from heav

6 Then, while ye hear my heart-strings For all the pious dead;

How sweet my minutes roll! [break, Sweet is the savour of their names, A mortal paleness on my cheek, And soft their sleeping bed.

And glory in my soul.] 2 They die in Jesus, and are blest; How kind their slumbers are!

HYMN 66. B. 2. C.M.

626} Braintree, Arundel, St. Asaphis. From sufferings and from sins releas'd, And freed from every spare.

A prospect of heaven makes death easy. 3. Far from this world of toil and strife,' TH

HERE is a land of pure delight, They're present with the Lord; Infinite day excludes the night,

Where saints immortal reign, The labours of their mortal life End in a large reward.

And pleasures banish pain.

2 There everlasting spring abides, 624} Dundee, Stade; Plymouth. HYMN 49. B. 2. C. M. b And never-withering flowers;

Death, like a narrow sea, divides Moses dying in the embraces of God

This heavenly land from ours. D God be with us there ; EATH cannot pake our souls afraid, 3[Sweet fields,beyond the swelling flood

Stand dress’d in living green : We

may walk through its darkest shade, So to the Jews old Canaan stoor And never yield to fear,

While Jordan roll'd between. 2 I could renounce my an below, 14 But timorous mortals start and shrin If my Creator bid;

To cross this narrow sea, And run, if I were call'd: to go, And linger, shivering on the brink "And die as Moses did.

And fear to launch away.] 3-Might I but climb to Pisgah's top 50! could we make our doubts remove

And view the promis'd land, These gloomy doubts that riseMy flesh itself would long to drop, And see the Canaan, that we love

And pray for the command. With unbecloudel eyes:

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6 Could we but climb where Mesesetood, | 629}

HYMN 110. B. 1. C. M. X

Canterbury, Bedford. Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold Death and immediate glory. Should fright us from the shore. [flood


"HERE is a house not made with HYMN 31. B. 2. L. M.

Eternal and on high; [hands, 627} Italy, Portugal.

And here my spirit waiting stands,

Till God shall bid it fly, Christ's presence makes death easy. 2 Shortly this prison of my clay 1 WHY should we start and fear to die, Must be dissolv'd and fall ;

What timorous worms we mortals Then, O my soul, with joy obey Death is the gate of endless joy, [are ! Thy heavenly Father's call. And yet we dread to enter there.

3 'Tis he, by his almighty grace, 2 The pains, the groans, and dying strife That forms thee fit for heaven; Fright our approaching souls away, And, as an earnest of the place, Still we shrink back again to life, Hath his own Spirit given. Fond of our prison and our clay.

4 We walk by faith of joys to come; 30! if my Lord would come and meet, Faith lives upon his word ; My soul would stretch her wings in haste, But while the body is our home, Fly, fearless, through death's iron gate, We're absent from the Lord. Nor feel the terrors as she pass'd.

5 'Tis pleasant to believe thy grace, 4 Jesus can make a dying bed

But we had rather see; Feel soft as downy pillows are, We would be absent from the flesli, While on his breast I lean my head, And present, Lord, with thee. And breathe my life out sweetly there.


HYMN 2. B. 2. C.M. 6 HYMN 27. B. 1. C.M. 628}

Windsor, Carolina.
Carthage, Windsor.

The death of a sinner.
Assurance of heaven ; or, a saint prepared to die.

dissolve tay body now," MY thoughtson awful su'yjects roll,

Damnation and the dead:
And bear my spirit home;.
Why do my minutes mive so slow,

What horrors seize the guilty soul

Upon a dying bed! Nor my salvation coine? 3 With heavenly weapons I have fought |? Lingering about these mortal shores, The battles of the Lord,

She makes a long delay; Finish'd my course, and kept the faith, Till, like a flood, with rapid force,

And wait the sure reward.] Death sweeps the wretch away. 3 God has laid up in heaven for me 3 Then, swift and dreadful she descends

A crown which cannot face ; Down to the fiery coast, The righteous Judge at that great day Among abominable 'fiends; Shall place it on my head.

Herself a frighted ghost. 4 Nor hath the King of grace decreed 4 There endless crowds of sinners lie, This prize for me alone ;

And darkness makes their chains; But all that love and long to see

Tortur'd with keen despair, they cry, Th' appearance of his Son.

Yet wait for fiercer pains. 5 Jesus the Lord shall guard me safe 5 Not all their anguish and their blood From every ill design ;

For their old guilt atones, And to his heavenly kingdom take Nor the compassion of a God This feeble soul of mine.

Shall hearken to their groans. 6 God is my everlasting aid, 6 Amazing grace, that kept my breath,

And hell shall rage in vain : Nor bade my soul remove, To him be highest glory paid,

Till I had learn'd my Saviour's death, And endless praise. Amen.

And well insur'd his love!


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HYMN 3. B. 2. C. M. b

HYM'N 61. B. 2. C. M. O Canterbury, Bangor.

Mear, St. James, York. The death and burial of a saint. A thought of death and glory. Or shake at death's alarms?

And think how near it stands, 'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends, When thou must quit this house of clay, To call them to his arms:

And fly to unknown lands. 2 Are we not tending upward too, 2 (And you, mine eyes, look down and As fast as time can inove?

The hollow, gaping tomb:. [view Nor would we wish the hours more slow, This gloomy prison waits for you, To keep us from our love.

Whene'er the summons come.] 3 Why should we tremble to convey 30! could we die with those that die, Their bodies to the tomb ?

And place us in their stead; There the dear flesh of Jesus lay, Then would our spirits learn to fly, And left a long perfume.

And converse with the dead. 4 The graves of all his saints he blest, 4 Then should we see the saints above, And soften'd every bed:

In their own glorious forms, Where should the dying members rest, And wonder why our souls should love But with the dying head?

To dwell with mortal worms. 5 Thence he arose, ascending high, 5 (How should we scorn these clothes of

And show'd our feet the way: These fetters, and this load, [flesh, Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly

And long for evening to undress, At the great rising day.

That we may rest with God.] 6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound, | 6 We should almost forsake our clay," And bid our kindred rise:

Before the summons come, Awake, ye nations under ground; Ann pray and wish our souls away Ye saints, ascend the skies.

To their eternal home.
HYMN 28. B. 2. C.M. b

Hymn 63. B. 2. C.M. 6-
Wantage, Plymouth. '

Canterbury, Wantage.
Death and eternity.

A funeral thought.
STOOP down, my thoughts, that


'HARK from the tombs a doleful Converse a while with death ; Think how a gasping mortal lies,

Mine ears attend the cry-
And pants away his breath.

“ Ye living men,come view the ground

“Where you must shortly lie. 2 His quivering lip hangs feebly down, His pulse is faint and few :

2“ Princes, this clay must be your bed, Then, speechless, with a doieful gróan, “The tall

, the wise, the reverend head

“ In spite of all yonr towers ; He bids the world adieu:

" Must' lie as low as ours." 3-But o the soul, that never dies ! At once it leaves the clay!

3 Great God, is this our certain doom? Ye thoughts, pursue it where it flies, Still walking downward to the tomb,

And are we still secure? And track its wondrous way! 4 Up to the courts where angels dwell, 4 Grant us the powers of quickening grace,

And yet prepare no more?
Ît mounts-triumphing there;

To fit our souls to fly ;
Or devils plunge it down to hell,
In infinite despair !

Then, when we drop this dying flesh,

We'll rise above the sky. 5 And must my body faint and die? 0, for some guardian angel nigh, 635} German Hýmit, Putney.

B. 1. L. M. 6 To bear it safe above!

The rich sinner dying. 6 Jesus, to thy dear faithful hand

1 JN vain the wealthy mortals toil, My naked soul I trust;

And 'heap their shining dust in vain ; And my

fiesh waits for thy command Look down and scorn the humble po. To drop into my dust,

And boast their loity hills of gri WATTS.

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