3 Was it for crimes that I had done,

He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

4 Well might the sun in darkness hide, And shut his glories in,

When God, the mighty Maker, died,
For man, the creature's sin.

5 Thus, might I hide my blushing face,
While his dear cross appears,
Dissolve my heart in thankfulness,
And melt my eyes to tears.

6 But drops of grief can ne'er repay
The debt of love I owe :

Here, Lord, I give myself away;
"Tis all that I can do.

Death of the Righteous.

1 How blest the righteous when he dies!
When sinks a weary soul to rest,
How mildly beam the closing eyes
How gently heaves the expiring breast!

2 So fades a summer cloud away,

So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day,
So dies a wave along the shore..

3 A holy quiet reigns around,

A calm which life nor death destroys;
Nothing disturbs that peace profound,
Which his unfettered soul enjoys.

4 Farewell, conflicting hopes and fears,
Where lights and shades alternate dwell;
How bright the unchanging morn appears,
Farewell, inconstant world, farewell!

5 Life's duty done, as sinks the clay, Light from its load the spirit flies; While heaven and earth combine to say, "How blest the righteous when he dies!"

Invitation Accepted.

1 AM I called? and can it be?

Has my Saviour chosen me?
Guilty, wretched as I am,

Has he named my worthless name?
Vilest of the vile am I,

Dare I raise my hopes so high?

2 Am I called? I dare not stay,
May not, must not disobey:
Here I lay me at thy feet,
Clinging to the mercy-seat;
Thine I am, and thine alone,
Lord, with me thy will be done

3 Am I called? what shall I bring,
As an offering to my King?
Poor and blind, and naked I
Trembling at thy footstool lie;
Naught but sin I call my own,
Nor for sin can sin atone.

4 Am I called? an heir of God?
Washed, redeemed by precious blood?
Father, lead me by thy hand,
Guide me to that better land,
Where my soul shall be at rest,

Pillowed on my Saviour's breast.

Death Welcome in Prospect of Heaven.

1 THERE is a land of pure delight,

Where saints immortal reign;

Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.

2 There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers; Death, like a narrow sea, divides

This heavenly land from ours.

3 Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood,
Stand dressed in living green;

So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
While Jordan roiled between.

4 But timorous mortals start and shrink,
To cross this narrow sea;
And linger, shivering on the brink,

And fear to launch away.

5 0! could we make our doubts remove,
Those gloomy doubts that rise,
And see the Canaan that we love

With unbeclouded eyes:

6 Could we but climb where Moses stood,
And view the landscape o'er,

Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood,
Should fright us from the shore.