All-conquering, triumphant, from the tomb arising,
He opens the gates of immortal bliss: Angels of glory, bear him on your pinions, And shout your loud hosannas through the sky!
OUR Lord is risen from the dead, Our Jesus is gone up on high: The powers of hell are captive led, Dragg'd to the portals of the sky.
There his triumphal chariot waits, And angels chaunt their solemn lay: "Lift up your heads, ye heavenly gates! "Ye everlasting doors, give way!"
Unloose your bars of massy light, And wide unfold the æthereal scene: He bursts the bands of death and night, And heaven receives the conqueror in.
Whom did the lord of life subdue? The tyrant death his arm o'ercame, The world and hell his power o'erthrew, And Jesus is the conqueror's name.
* Altered from a popular hymn.
Who is the king of glory? who?— The Christ with God's own power possest; And made our king and saviour too, Thanks be to God, for ever blest! 334. C. M. DODDRIDGE. For New Year's Day.
REMARK, my soul, the narrow bounds Of the revolving year;
How swift the weeks complete their rounds, How short the months appear!
So fast eternity comes on,
And that important day,
When all that mortal life has done God's judgement shall survey.
Yet like an idle tale we pass
The swift advancing year, And study artful ways to increase The speed of its career.
Waken, O God, my trifling heart Its great concern to see; That I may act the Christian part, And give the year to thee.
So shall their course more grateful roll,
If future years arise,
Or this shall bear my smiling soul To joy that never dies.
WHILE with ceaseless course the sun Hasted through the former year, Many souls their race have run, Never more to meet us here: Finish'd is probation's day, They have done with all below; We a little longer stay,
But how little none can know.
As the winged arrow flies, Speedily the mark to find; As the lightning from the skies Darts, and leaves no trace behind; Swiftly thus our fleeting days Bear us down life's rapid stream: Upwards, Lord, our spirits raise; All below is but a dream.
Thanks for mercies past receive; Pardon of our sins renew; Teach us henceforth how to live With eternity in view.
Bless thy word to young and old; Fill us with our Father's love; And, when life's short tale is told, May we dwell with thee above!
COLLECTION.
For the Lord's Supper.
YE followers of the Prince of Peace Who round his table draw, Remember what his spirit was, What his peculiar law.
The love which all his bosom fill'd Did all his actions guide; Inspired by love, he lived and taught; Inspired by love, he died.
Let each his sacred law fulfill; Like his be every mind; Be every temper form'd by love, And every action kind.
Let none who call themselves his friends Disgrace the honour'd name,
But by a near resemblance prove The title which they claim.
337. L. M.
For the Lord's Supper.
THIS feast was Jesus' high behest, This cup of thanks, his last request; Ye who can feel his worth, attend, Eat, drink, in
memory of your friend.
Around the patriot's bust ye throng, Him ye exalt in swelling song; For him the wreath of glory bind, Who freed from vassalage his kind:
And shall not he your praises reap Who rescues from the iron sleep; The great deliverer, whose breath Unbinds the captives e'en of death?
Shall he who, fellow-men to save, Became a tenant of the grave, Unthank'd, uncelebrated rise, Pass unremember'd to the skies?
Christians, unite with loud acclaim To hymn the Saviour's welcome name; On earth extol his wondrous love; Repeat his praise in worlds above.
To God most high, the sovereign Lord, Great name, by heaven and earth adored, Our grateful hearts and voices raise A cheerful song of sacred praise.
And while around this board we meet To worship at thy glorious feet, O let our warm affections move In glad returns of grateful love!
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