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3 Shall see Him wear that very flesh
On which my guilt has lain;
His love intense, His merit fresh,
As though but newly slain.
4. Soon too my slumbering dust shall hear
The trumpet’s quickening sound;
And, by my Saviour's power rebuilt,
At His right hand be found.
5 If such the views which grace unfolds,
Weak as it is below,
What raptures must the Church above
In Jesu's presence know !
LL, all is vanity below;
An airy dream, an empty show :
What sinners value, I resign:
Lord, 'tis enough that I am Thine.
2 All, all is vanity below !
But the bright world to which I go
Hath joys substantial and sincere—
When shall I wake, and find Thee there 2
3 O glorious hour! O blest abode 1
I shall be near and like my God;
And flesh and sin no more control
The sacred passions of the soul.
4. My flesh shall slumber in the ground, Till the last trumpet’s solemn sound; Then burst the chains with glad surprise, And in my Saviour's image rise.
THOU art gone to the gravel but we will not deplore thee,
Though sorrows and darkness encompass the
tomb: Thy Saviour has passed through its portal before thee, And the lamp of His love is thy guide through the gloom | 2 Thou art gone to the gravel we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee,
And sinners may die, for the Sinless has died 1
3 Thou art gone to the grave! and, its mansion forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in fear lingered long; But the mild rays of Paradise beamed on thy waking, And the sound which thou heard'st was the Seraphim's song!
4 Thou art gone to the gravel but we will not deplore thee, Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian and guide: He gave thee, He took thee, and He will restore thee; And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died
HE feeble pulse, the gasping breath,
The clenched teeth, the glazed eye,
Are these thy sting, thou dreadful death
O grave, are these thy victory :
2 The mourners by our parting bed,
The wife, the children weeping nigh,
The dismal pageant of the dead,
These, these are not thy victory !
3 But from the much-loved world to part,
Our lust untamed, our spirit high,
All nature struggling at the heart,
Which, dying, feels it dare not die
4. To dream through life a gaudy dream
Of pride and pomp and luxury,
Till wakened by the nearer gleam
Of burning boundless agony;
5 To meet o'er-soon our angry King,
Whose love we passed unheeded by ;
Lo this, O death, thy deadliest sting!
O grave, and this thy victory !
6 O Searcher of the secret heart,
Who deigned for sinful man to die
Restore us ere the spirit part,
Nor give to hell the victory!
EATHLESS principle, arise!
Soar, thou native of the skies!
Pearl of price, by Jesus bought,
To His glorious likeness wrought,
Go, to shine before His throne—
Deck His mediatorial crown :
Go, His triumphs to adorn—
Made for God, to God return.
2 Lo, He beckons from on high :
Fearless to His presence fly—
Thine the merit of His blood,
Thine the righteousness of God:
Angels, joyful to attend,
Hovering round thy pillow bend;
Wait to catch the signal given,
And escort thee quick to heaven.
3 Shudder not to pass the stream;
Venture all thy care on Him—
Him whose dying love and power
Stayed its tossing, hushed its roar:
Safe is the expanded wave,
Gentle as a summer's eve:
Not one object of His care
Ever suffered shipwreck there.
ET reason vainly boast her power
To teach her children how to die:
The sinner in a dying hour
Needs more than reason can supply:
A view of Christ, the sinner's Friend,
Alone can cheer him in his end.
2 When nature sinks beneath disease,
And every earthly hope is fled;
What then can give the sinner ease,
And make him love a dying bed
Jesus, Thy smile his heart can cheer;
He's blest even then, if Thou art near.
3 O let me die the death of those
Whom Jesus washes in His blood;
Who on His faithfulness repose,
And know that He indeed is God |
“O death, where is thy sting * they cry;
“O grave, where is thy victory "
APPY soul! thy days are ended,
All thy mourning days below:
Go, by angel guards attended,
To the sight of Jesus go
Waiting to receive thy Spirit,
Lo, the Saviour stands above,
Shews the purchase of His merit,
Reaches out the crown of love!
2 Struggle through thy latest passion ,
To thy dear Redeemer's breast,
To His uttermost salvation,
To His everlasting rest
For the joy He sets before thee
Bear a momentary pain;
Die, to live the life of glory;
Suffer, with thy Lord to reign