For he who bade the tempest roar 4 Here will we rest, here build our hopes, He's more to us than all the world, The Mourner's Thoughts of Heaven. 1 NOT for the pious dead we weep; Their sorrows now are o'er ; The sea is calm, the tempest past, On that eternal shore. BARBAULD. 2 Their peace is sealed, their rest is sure, Within that better home; Awhile we weep and linger here, Then follow to the tomb. 3 0, might some dream of visioned bliss, 4 Thence may their pure devotion's flame To us their strong aspiring hopes, 5 Let these our shadowy path illume, Human Frailty and Divine Support. 1 LET others boast how strong they be, Nor death nor danger fear; But we'll confess, O Lord, to thee, WATTS. 2 Fresh as the grass our bodies stand, A blasting wind sweeps o'er the land, 3 Our life contains a thousand springs, Strange! that a harp of thousand strings 4 But 't is our God supports our frame, 5 While we have breath, or use our tongues, His spirit moves our heaving lungs, 514. 7, 6, & 8s. M. The Land of Rest. NOEL'S COLL. 1 BROTHER, thou art gone to rest; 2 Brother, thou art gone to rest; But God hath summoned thee away; 3 Brother thou art gone to rest ; Thy toils and cares are o'er ; 4 Brother, thou art gone to rest ; And saints in light have welcomed thee 5 Brother, thou art gone to rest; 515. 11 & 10s. M. SPIRITUAL SONGS. Invitation to the Mercy-seat. 1 COME, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish ; Come, at the mercy-seat fervently kneel; Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish ; Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal. 2 Joy of the desolate, light of the straying, Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure, Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying, Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure. 3 Here see the bread of life; see waters flowing Forth from the throne of God, pure from above; Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing Earth has no sorrow but heaven can remove. 516. L. M. Address to the dying Christian. 1 GO, spirit of the sainted dead, J. N. BROWN. Go to thy longed-for, happy home : 2 If life be not in length of days, In silvered locks and furrowed brow, How few have lived so long as thou! 3 Though earth may boast one gem the less, The Christian's tranquil Death. MONTGOMERY. This lifeless, mouldering clay; The pale and mortal clay; Heard ye the sob of parting breath? 3 Why mourn the pious dead? ? Though death has caused this altered mien, 4 Bury the dead, and weep In stillness o'er the loss: Bury the dead; in Christ they sleep And from the grave their dust shall rise, God the Author of Mercies and Afflictions. 1 NAKED, as from the earth we came, And rose to life at first, We to the earth return again, And mingle with the dust. 2 The dear delights we here enjoy, WATTS. TOPLADY. Are only favors borrowed now, 3 T is God who lifts our comforts high, He gives, and, blesséd be his name, 4 Peace, all our angry passions, then; 5 If smiling mercy crown our lives, And we'll adore the justice, too, The dying Christian to his Soul. 1 DEATHLESS spirit, now arise; 4 See the haven full in view ; Love divine shall bear thee through; |