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2 Our wasting lives grow shorter still,

As months and days increase ;
And every beating pulse we tell

Leaves but the number less.
3 The year rolls round, and steals away

The breath that first it gave;
Whate'er we do, where'er we be,

We're travelling to the grave.
4 Dangers stand thick through all the ground,

To push us to the tomb;
And fierce diseases wait around,

To hurry mortals home.
5 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense,

To walk this dangerous road ;
And, if our souls are hurried hence,

May they be found with God!

571.

11s. M. MUHLENBURG.

I would not live alway. 1 I WOULD not live alway; I ask not to stay

Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way : 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,

'heir aviour and brethren transported to greet, While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, And the smile of the Lord is the life of the soul !

572.
P. M.

POPE.
The dying Christian to his Soul.
1 VITAL spark of heavenly flame,

Quit, O, quit this mortal frame !
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
O, the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.

2 Hark! they whisper! angels say,

6. Sister spirit, come away.?
What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath ?

Tell me, my soul, can this be death? 3 The world recedes ; it disappears ;

Heaven opens on my eyes ; my ears
With sounds seraphic ring.
Lend, lend your wings ! I mount, I fly!
O grave, where is thy victory?
O death, where is thy sting?

573.

78. M. MONTGOMERY.

The Summons.
I “SPIRIT, leave thy house of clay ;

Lingering dust, resign thy breath;
Spirit, cast thy chains away ;

Dust, be thou dissolved in death":
Thus the blessed Saviour speaks,

While the faithful Christian dies ;
Thus the bonds of life he breaks,

And the ransomed captive flies. 2 “ Prisoner, long detained below,

Prisoner, now with freedom blest,
Welcome from a world of woe ;

Welcome to a land of rest":
Thus the choir of angels sing,

As they bear the soul on high,
While with hallelujahs ring

All the regions of the sky,

574.
C. M.

WATTS. Meditation on the Tomb. 1 HARK! from the tombs a warning sound;

My ears, attend the cry; “ Ye living men, come view the ground

Where you must shortly lie.
2 “ Princes, this clay must be your bed,

In spite of all your towers ;
The tall, the wise, the reverend head,
Must lie as low as ours."

3 Great God, is this our certain doom?

And are we still secure?
Still walking downward to the tomb,

And yet prepare no more ?
4 Grant us the power of quickening grace,

To fit our souls to fly ;
Then, when we drop this dying flesh,

We'll rise above the sky.
575
L. M.

BROWNE. Fear of Death overcome. 1 I CANNOT shun the stroke of death ;

Lord, help me to surmount the fear; That, when I must resign my breath,

Serene my summons I may hear. 2 'T is sin gives venom to the dart;

In me let every sin be slain ; From secret faults, Lord, cleanse my heart,

From wilful sins my hands restrain. 3 May I, my God, with holy zeal,

Closely the ends of life pursue, Seek thy whole pleasure to fulfil,

And honor thee in all I do. 4 Let all my bliss and treasure lie

Where, in thy light, I light may see ; The soul may freely dare to die,

That longs to be possessed of thee. 576.

8 & 4s. M. MONTGOMERY.

The Grave. 1 THERE is a calm for those who weep,

A rest for weary pilgrims found : They softly lie and sweetly sleep,

Low in the ground.
2 The storm that sweeps the wintry sky

No more disturbs their deep repose,
Than summer evening's latest sigh,

That shuts the rose.
3 Then, traveller in the vale of tears

To realms of everlasting light,
Through time's dark wilderness of years
Pursue thy flight.

4 Thy soul, renewed by grace divine,

In God's own image, freed from clay,
In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine,

A star of day.

han & 4s. M. MRS. GILBERT. Prayer for Support in Death. 1 WHEN the vale of death appears,

Faint and cold this mortal clay,
O my Father, soothe

my fears,
Light me through the gloomy way;

Break the shadows,
Usher in eternal day;
2 Upward from this dying state

Bid my waiting soul aspire ;
Open thou the crystal gate ;
To thy praise attune my lyre :

Then, triumphant
I will join th' immortal hoir.

578.

6 & 58. M. ANONYMOUS.

The Knell of Death.
1 THROUGH the night-air stealing,
Hark! the bell is pealing

Mournfully and slow;
Rest to the soul departed,
Peace to the broken-hearted,

In this vale of woe.
2 Say, for whom thou ringest,
Say, if to him thou bringest

Hopes beyond the tomb;
Or if the sound appalls him,
When death's summons calls him

To uncertain doom.

579,
C. M.

COLLYER. Prayer for Support in Death. 1 WHEN, bending o'er the brink of life,

My trembling soul shall stand,
And wait to pass death's awful flood,

Great God, at thy command,

2 Thou Source of life and joy supreme,

Whose arm alone can save,
Dispel the darkness that surrounds

The entrance to the grave.
3 Lay thy supporting, gentle hand

Beneath my sinking head,
And let a beam of light divine

Illume my dying bed.

580.

L. M.

R. HILL. Prayer for the dying Christian. 1 GENTLY, my Father, let me down

To slumber in the arms of death :
I rest my soul on thee alone,

E’en till my last expiring breath. 2 Soon will the storms of life be o'er;

And I shall enter endless rest:
There I shall live to sin no more,

And bless thy name for ever blest. 3 Bid me possess sweet peace within ;

Let childlike patience keep my heart ;
Then shall I feel my heaven begin,

Before my spirit hence depart. 4 Hasten thy chariot, God of love!

And take me from this world of woe,
I long to reach those joys above,

And bid farewell to all below.
5 There shall my raptured spirit raise

Still louder notes than angels sing, –
Extol the riches of thy grace,

My God, my Father, and my King.

581.
C. M.

Watts.
Rest in Heaven from Sin and Trouble.
1 OUR sins, alas ! how strong they be!

And, like a raging flood,
They break our duty, Lord, to thee,

And force us from our God.
2 The waves of trouble, how they rise !

How loud the tempests roar!
But death shall land our weary souls
Safe on the heavenly shore.

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