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The moment after death,
When yielding up their breath.
2 One gentle sigh their fetters breaks;
We scarce can say: They're gone
Her mansion near the throne.
3 Faith strives, but all its efforts fail,
To trace her in her flight; .
Which hides that world of light.
4 Thus much-and this is all-we know,
They are completely blest;
And with their Saviour rest.
5 On harps of gold they praise his Name,
His face they always view;
That we may praise Him too.
Tumultuous passions all be still;
His ways are just, his counsels wise. 2 He in the thickest darkness dwells,
Performs his work, the cause conceals;
Judgment and truth support his throne.
He executes his firm decrees;
That what He does is ever best.
Prostrate before his awful seat;
Trust in a wise and gracious God. 382
Ps. xc, 12. Matt. xxiv, 42-44.
By death's resistless hand,
Affection must demand.
2 While sorrow prompts the rising sigh,
With awful power impress'd,
Sink deep in every breast.
Behold the opening tomb!
To-morrow death may come.
May every heart obey;
Which calls to watch and pray. 5 Oh! let us fly, to Jesus fly,
Whose arm alone can save:
And triumph o'er the grave.
6-8's. Christ our hope in death. Job xix, 26-27. Acts vii, 55-60. 1 Cor. xv, 55. 1 LET reason vainly boast her pow'r
To teach her children how to die;
2 When nature sinks beneath disease,
And every earthly hope is fled,
He's blest e'en then, if Thou art near.
And Jesus is the gospel theme:
O grave, where is thy victory?
Whom Jesus washes in his blood,
C. M. Sorrow lightened by the prospect of glory.
2 Cor. iv, 17, 18; v, 1-4.
And droop, and sink, and die,
And soar to worlds on high,
2 Then shall we join the ransom'd throng,
And find our wish’d-for rest;
To be with Jesus blest.
We now the cross sustain;
And smile at toil and pain.
Till our Redeemer come
And take his exiles home.
If, Lord! Thou count us meet,
To worship at thy feet!
Who hath not lost a friend?
That finds not here an end: