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4 There shall I bathe my weary soul

In seas of heavenly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll

Across my peaceful breast.

10

C. M.

Love to Christ.
1 How sweet the name of Jesus sounds,

In a believer's ear!
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,

And drives away his fear.
2 It makes the wounded spirit whole,

And calms the troubled breast; 'Tis manna to the hungry soul,

And to the weary rest.
3 Dear name, the Rock on which I build,

My shield and hiding-place;
My never-failing treasury, filled

With boundless stores of grace !

4 Jesus, my Shepherd, Husband, Friend,

My Prophet, Priest, and King ;
My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End,

Accept the praise I bring.

5 Weak is the effort of my heart,

And cold my warmest thought;
But when I see thee as thou art,

I'll praise thee as I ought.

6 Till then I would thy love proclaim

With every fleeting breath ;
And may the music of thy name

Refresh my soul in death.

7 s and 6 s.

Aspiring after Heaven. 1 Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,

Thy better portion trace;
Rise from transitory things,

Towards heaven thy native place:

Sun and moon and stars decay;

Time shall soon this earth remove: Rise, my soul, and haste away,

To seats prepared above. 2 Rivers to the ocean run,

Nor stay in all their course;
Fire ascending seeks the sun;

Both speed them to their source:
So a soul that's born of God,

Pants to view his glorious face,
Upward tends to his abode,

To rest in his embrace.

3 Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn ;

Press onward to the prize;
Soon our Saviour will return,

Triumphant in the skies.
Yet a season, and you know,

Happy entrance will be given;
All our sorrows left below,
And earth exchanged for heaven.

12

C. M.

The New Jerusalem. 1 JERUSALEM, my happy home,

Name ever dear to me!
When shall my labours have an end,

In joy and peace and thee ? 2 When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls

And pearly gates behold ?

3 0! when, thou city of my God,

Shall I thy courts ascend,
Where congregations ne'er break up,

And Sabbaths have no end ?

4 There happier bowers than Eden's bloom,

Nor sin nor sorrow know:
Blest seats, through rude and stormy scenes,

I onward press to you.

5 Why should I shrink at pain and woe,

Or feel at death, dismay ?
I've Canaan's goodly land in view,

And realms of endless day.

6 Apostles, martyrs, prophets there

Around my Saviour stand;
And soon my friends in Christ below,

Will join the glorious band.

7 Jerusalem, my happy home,

My soul still pants for thee;
Then shall my labours have an end,
When I thy joys shall see.

C. M.
Triumph over Death.

1 0! For an overcoming faith

To cheer my dying hours,

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