Time was,

3 God of our fathers ! hear,

Thou everlasting Friend !
While we, as on life's utmost verge,

Our souls to thee commend.
4 Of all the pious dead

May we the footsteps trace,
Till with them, in the land of light,

We dwell before thy face. 561.

C. M.

J. Q. ADAMS. Swiftness of Time. 1 HOW swift, alas ! the moments fly!

How rush the years along!
Scarce here, yet gone already by, -

The burden of a song.
2 See childhood, youth, and manhood pass,
And age, with furrowed brow;

time shall be, - but, alas !
Where, where, in time, is now?
3 Time is the measure but of change ;

No present hour is found;
The past, the future, fill the range

Of time's unceasing round.
4 Then, pilgrim, let thy joys and fears

On time no longer lean ;
But henceforth all thy hopes and fears

From earth's affections wean. 5 To God let grateful accents rise :

With truth, with virtue, live ;
So all the bliss that time denies,

Eternity shall give.
562.
L. M.

LOGAN. The Christian summoned to depart. 1 THE hour of my departure 's come;

I hear the voice that calls me home:
At last, O Lord, let trouble cease,

And let thy servant die in peace. 2 The race appointed I have run;

The combat 's o'er, the prize is won ;
And now my witness is on high,
And now my record 's in the sky.

3 I leave the world without a tear,

Save for the friends I held so dear :
To heal their sorrows, Lord, descend,

And to the friendless prove a friend. 4 I come, I come ; at thy command,

I give my spirit to thy hand;
Stretch forth thine everlasting arms,

And shield me in the last alarms.
5 The hour of my departure 's come;

I hear the voice that calls me home:
Now, O my God, let trouble cease,

Now let thy servant die in peace. 563.

C. M. H. K. WHITE. Journeying through Death to Life. 1 THROUGH sorrow's night and danger's path,

Amid the deepening gloom,
We, soldiers of a Heavenly 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 labors done, securely laid

In this our last retreat,
Unheeded, o'er our silent dust

The storms of life shall beat.
4 Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane,

The vital spark shall lie :
For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise,

To seek its kindred sky. 564.

L. M.

J. TAYLOR. True Length of Life. 1 LIKE shadows gliding o'er the plain,

Or clouds that roll successive on, Man's busy generations pass;

And while we gaze, their forms are gone. 2 " He lived, he died”; behold the sum,

The abstract, of th' historian's page!
Alike, in God's all-seeing eye,
The infant's day, the patriarch's age.

3 O Father, in whose mighty hand

The boundless years and ages lie, Teach us thy boon of life to prize,

And use the moments as they fly; 4 To crowd the narrow span of life

With wise designs and virtuous deeds : So shall we wake from death's dark night,

To share the glory that succeeds.

565.

C. H. M. J. TAYLOR.

What is your Life ?
1 0, WHAT is life? 't is like a flower

That blossoms and is gone ;
It flourishes its little hour,

With all its beauty on :
Death comes, and, like a wintry day,

It cuts the lovely flower away.
2 0, what is life? — 't is like the bow

That glistens in the sky :
We love to see its colors glow;

But, while we look, they die:
Life fails as soon : - to-day 't is here ;

To-morrow it may disappear.
3 Lord, what is life ? — if spent with thee,

In humble praise and prayer,
How long or short our life may be,

We feel no anxious care :
Though life depart, our joys shall last
When life and all its joys are past.

566.
C. M.

HEBER.
Man's Mortality.
1 BENEATH our feet and o'er our head

Is equal warning given ;
Beneath us lie the countless dead,

Above us is the heaven.
2 Their names are graven on the stone,

Their bones are in the clay ;
And ere another day is done,

Ourselves may be as they.
3 Death rides on every passing breeze ;
He lurks in every flower ;

Each season has its own disease,

Its peril every hour.
4 Our eyes have seen the rosy light

Of youth's soft cheek decay,
And fate descend in sudden night

On månhood's middle day;
5 Our eyes have seen the steps of age

Halt feebly towards the tomb;
And yet shall earth our hearts engage,

And dreams of days to come?
6 Turn, mortal, turn; thy danger know;

Where'er thy foot can tread,
The earth rings hollow from below,

And warns thee of her dead!

567.
L. M.

WATTS.
Life.
1 LIFE is the time to serve the Lord,

The time t'insure the great reward ;
And while the lamp holds out to burn,

To thee the sinner may return.
2 Life is the hour that thou hast given

To fit us for the joys of heaven ;
The day of grace, and mortals may

Secure the blessings of the day.
3 Then the great work we have to do,

Let us, with all our might, pursue ;
And wisely every hour employ,
Till faith and hope are lost in joy.

568.

8 & 4s. M. ANONYMOUS.

Vanity of the World.
1 ALAS! how poor and little worth
Are all those glittering toys of earth

That lure us here!
Dreams of a sleep that death must break :
Alas! before it bids us wake,

They disappear.
2 Where is the strength that spurned decay,
The step that rolled so light and gay,
The heart's blithe tone ?

The strength is gone, the step is slow,
And joy grows weariness and woe

When age comes on.
3 Our birth is but a starting-place ;
Life is the running of the race,

And death the goal •
There all those glittering toys are brought ;
That path alone, of all unsought,

Is found of all.
4 O, let the soul its slumbers break,
Arouse its senses, and awake

To see how soon
Life, like its glories, glides away,
And the stern footsteps of decay

Come stealing on.

569.
C. M.

CowPER.
Human Frailty.
1 WEAK and irresolute is man :

The purpose of to-day,
Woven with pains into his plan,

To-morrow rends away.
2 Some foe to his upright intent

Finds out his weaker part;
Virtue engages his assent,

But pleasure wins his heart.
3 Bound on a voyage of awful length,

Through dangers little known,
A stranger to superior strength,

Man vainly trusts his own
4 But oars alone can ne'er prevail

To reach the distant coast ;
The breath of heaven must swell the sail,

Or all the toil is lost.

570.
C. M.

WATTS.
Frail Life and succeeding Eternity.
1 THEE we adore, Eternal Name,

And humbly own to thee
How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying worms are we.