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All our stricken hearts deplore

Loss of him we meet no more.
2 Tender are the rites we pay,

Pastor, o'er thy sleeping clay ;
We, who late the welcome gave,

Must we bear thee to thy grave ?
3 Earth, unto thy faithful trust
We commit this precious dust,
There, by pain no more oppressed,

Brother, thou wilt sweetly rest.
4 Glorious will that morning break,

When the dead in Christ shall wake;
Joy and grief our bosoms swell,
Brother, pastor, guide, farewell.

554.
P. M.

MILMAN.
Funeral Hymn.
1 BROTHER, thou art gone before us,

And thy saintly soul is flown,
Where tears are wiped from every eye,

And sorrow is unknown :
From the burden of the flesh,

And from care and fear released,
Where the wicked cease from troubling

And the weary are at rest.
2 Brother, yes, thy course is finished ;

Thou hast borne earth's heavy load,
But Christ has taught thy languid feet

To reach his blest abode :
Sweetly art thou sleeping now,

On thy Father's faithful breast,
Where the wicked cease from troubling

And the weary are at rest.
3 Sin no more can taint thy spirit,
Nor can doubt thy faith assail ;

Thy soul its welcome has received,

Thy strength shall never fail :
And thou 'rt sure to meet the good,

Whom on earth thou lovedst best,
Where the wicked cease from troubling

And the weary are at rest.
4 To thy grave we sadly bear thee,

There in dust we place thy head,
We lay the turf above thee now,

And seal thy narrow bed ;
But thy spirit soars away,

Free, among the faithful blest,
Where the wicked cease from troubling

And the weary are at rest.
5 When the Lord shall send his summons

Unto us who ’re left behind,
May we, untainted by the world,

As sure a welcome find ;
Each like thee depart in peace

To the kingdom of the blest,
Where the wicked cease from troubling

And the weary are at rest.

LIFE, DEATH, AND FUTURITY. 555. C. M.

Watts.
Bredity and Frailty of Life.
1 HOW short and hasty is our life !

How vast our soul's affairs !
Yet foolish mortals vainly strive

To lavish out their years.
2 Our days run thoughtlessly along,

Without a moment's stay ;
Just like a story or a song,
We pass our lives away.

3 God from on high invites us home;

But we march heedless on,
And, ever hastening to the tomb,

Stoop downward as we run.
4 Draw us, O God, with sovereign grace,

And lift our thoughts on high,
That we may end this mortal race,

And see salvation nigh.
556.
S. M.

WATTS
Man hastening to the Grare.
1 LORD, what a feeble piece

Is this our mortal frame !
Our life, how poor a trifle 't is,

That scarce deserves the name !
2 Alas! 't was brittle clay

That formed our body first;
And every month, and every day,

'Tis mouldering back to dust,
3 Our moments fly apace ;

Nor will our minutes stay ;
Just like a food our hasty days

Are sweeping us away.
4 Then, if our days must fly,

We'll keep their end in sight;
We 'll spend them all in wisdom's way,

And let them speed their flight.
5 They 'll waft us sooner o'er

This life's tempestuous sea :
We soon shall reach the peaceful shore

Of blest eternity.
557.
C. M.

Watts.
Life short, and Man frail.
1 TEACH me the measure of my days,
Thou Maker of my frame ;

I would survey life's narrow space,

And learn how frail I am.
2 A span is all that we can boast;

How short the feeting time !
Man is but vanity and dust,

In all his flower and prime.
3 Some walk in honor's gaudy show,

Some dig for golden ore ;
They toil for heirs, they know not who,

And straight are seen no more.
4 What should I wish, or wait for, then,

From creatures, — earth and dust?
They make our expectations vain,

And disappoint our trust.
5 Now I resign my earthly hope,

My fond desire recall;
I give my mortal interest up,

And make iny God my all.

558. 7 & 6s. M. S. F. SMITH

Life rapidly passing away.
1 AS flows the rapid river,

With channel broad and free,
Its waters rippling ever,

And basting to the sea,
So life is onward fowing,

And days of offered peace,
And man is swiftly going

Where calls of mercy cease.
2 As moons are ever waning,

As hastes the sun away,
As stormy winds, complaining,

Bring on the wintry day,
So fast the night comes o'er us, -
The darkness of the grave;

And death is just before us :

God takes the life he gave.
3 Say, bath thy heart its treasure

Laid up in worlds above ?
And is it all thy pleasure

Thy God to praise and love ?
Beware, lest death's dark river

Its billows o'er thee roll,
And thou lament for ever

The ruin of thy soul. 559. 7 & 6s. (Peculiar.) J. BARTON.

Life a Winter's Day.
1 TIME is winging us away

To our eternal home;
Life is but a winter's day, —

A journey to the tomb :
Youth and vigor soon will flee,

Blooming beauty lose its charms;
All that 's mortal soon shall be

Inclosed in death's cold arms.
2 Time is winging us away

To our eternal home;
Life is but a winter's day, —

A journey to the tomb ;
But the Christian shall enjoy

Health and beauty soon above,
Where no worldly griefs annoy,

Secure in Jesus' love.
560.
S. M.

WATTS.
Reflections on past Generations.
1 HOW swift the torrent rolls,

That bears us to the sea !
The tide which hurries thoughtless souls

To vast eternity !

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