to a world like this.

2. The evening The with'ring

N

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Earth and Heaven.

2 But though earth's fairest blossoms die, And all beneath the skies is vain, There is a land, whose confines lie

Beyond the reach of care and pain.

Then let the hope of joys to come

Dispel our cares, and chase our fears: If God be ours, we're travelling home, Though passing through a vale of tears.

Rev. David Everard Ford 1838.

2 A few more storms shall beat On this wild, rocky shore;

And we shall be where tempests ceasc, And surges swell no more. Cho.

3 A few more struggles here,

A few more partings o'er,

A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more. Cho.

4 'Tis but a little while

And He shall come again,

Who died that we might live, who lives That we with Him may reign. Cho. Rev. Horatius Bonar. (1808-) 1857. ab.

14 One thing demands our care,
O be it still pursued;

Lest, slighted once, the season fair
Should never be renewed.

5 To Jesus may we fly,

Swift as the morning light,

Lest life's young golden beams should die
In sudden, endless night.

I MAKE haste, O man, to live,

For thou so soon must die; Time hurries past thee like the breeze, How swift its moments fly.

2 Make haste, O man, to do

Whatever must be done;

Thou hast no time to lose in sloth,
Thy day will soon be gone.

3 Up then with speed, and work;
Fling ease and self away;
This is no time for thee to sleep,
Up, watch, and work and pray.
4 Make haste, O man, to live,
Thy time is almost o'er;
O sleep not, dream not, but arise,
The Judge is at the door.

Rev. Horatius Bonar. 1257. ab

ST. BRIDE. S. M.

Samuel Howard. (1720-1782.) 1762.

may timely

com - · pre

How frail my best es

tate.

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The Brevity and Vanity of Life.
Ps. xxxix.

2 My life is but a span,

Mine age is nought with Thee;
What is the highest boast of man
But dust and vanity?

3 Dumb at Thy feet I lie,

For Thou hast brought me low;
Remove Thy judgments. lest I die;
I faint beneath Thy blow.

4 At Thy rebuke, the bloom

Of man's vain beauty flies;

And grief shall, like a moth, consume
All that delights our eyes.

5 Have pity on my fears;

Hearken to my request;

Turn not in silence from my tears,

But give the mourner rest.

60 spare me yet, I pray;

Awhile my strength restore,

Ere I am summoned hence away,
And seen on earth no more.

James Montgomery. (1771-1854.) 1822. ab. and alt.

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.

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Rev. Philip Doddridge 1755. ab. and alt

Triumph over Death.

I AND must this body die,

This mortal frame decay?

And must these active limbs of mine
Lie mouldering in the clay?

2 God, my Redeemer, lives,
And ever from the skies

Looks down and watches all my dust,
Till He shall bid it rise.

3 Arrayed in glorious grace,
Shall these vile bodies shine,
And every shape and every face
Look heavenly and divine.

4 These lively hopes we owe
To Jesus' dying love;

We would adore His grace below,
And sing His power above.

5 Dear Lord, accept the praise

Of these our humble songs,
Till tunes of nobler sound we raise
With our immortal tongues.

Rev. Isaac Watts. (1674-1748.) 1709. ab. and alt.

2 Death rides on every passing brec,
And lurks in every flower;
Each season has its own disease,
Its peril every hour.

3 Our eyes have seen the rosy light
Of youth's soft cheek decay;
And fate descend in sudden night
On manhood's middle day.

4 Our eyes have seen the steps of age
Halt feebly to the tomb;

And yet shall earth our hearts engage,
And dreams of days to come?

5 Turn, mortal, turn, thy danger know;
Where'er thy foot can tread,
The earth rings hollow from below,
And warns thee of her dead.

6 Turn, Christian, turn, thy soul apply To truths divinely given;

The bones that underneath thee lie,
Shall live for hell or heaven.

Bp. Reginald Heber. (1783-1826.) 1812. ab. and sl. alt.

13 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.

5 These ashes too, this little dust,
Our Father's care shall keep,
Till the last angel rise and break
The long and dreary sleep.

6 Then love's soft dew o'er every eye
Shall shed its mildest rays,
And the long-silent dust shall burst
With shouts of endless praise.