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COWPER.

There all those glittering toys are brought ;
That path alone, of all unsought,

Is found of all.
4 0, 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.

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.
2 Our wasting lives grow shorter still,
As months and days increase ;

MUHLENBURG.

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.

I would not live alway. I 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,

Their Saviour 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 Sonil.
I VITAL spark of heavenly flame,
Quit, 0, 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,

" 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 dy!
O Grave, where is thy victory?
O Death, where is thy sting?

573.

7s. M.

MONTGOMERY.
The Summons.
1 “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. .

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 ;

BROWNE.

The soul may freely dare to die,

That longs to be possessed of thee. 576. 8 & 4s. M.

MONTGOMERY.
The Grade.
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. 577. 7 & 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 choir.

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