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4 Jesus can make a dying bed

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Feel soft as downy pillows are, While on his breast I lean my head,

And breathe my life out sweetly there.

St. Anns.] HYMN 563. C. M.

HARK! from the tombs a doleful sound,

My ears attend the cry:

"Ye living men, come view the ground Where you must shortly lie.

2 "Princes, this clay must be your bed,
In spite of all your tow'rs;

The tall, the wise, the reverend head,
Shall lie as low as ours."

3 Great God! is this our certain doom!
And are we still secure!

Still walking downward to the tomb,
And yet prepar'd no more!

4 Grant us the pow'r of quick'ning grace,
To fit our souls to fly;

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Then, when we drop this dying flesh,
We'll rise above the sky.

Hotham.] HYMN 564. 8 lines 7's.

"ARK! a voice divides the sky;

H Happy are the faithful dead!

In the Lord who sweetly die,

They from all their toils are freed!
Them the Spirit hath declar'd

Blest, unutterably blest;
Jesus is their great reward,

Jesus is their endless rest.

2 Follow'd by their works they go, Where their Head is gone before; Reconcil'd by grace below,

Grace hath open'd mercy's door;

Justified through faith alone,

Here they knew their sins forgiven; Here they laid their burden down, Hallow'd, and made meet for heav'n.

3 Who can now lament the lot

Of a saint in Christ deceas'd? Let the world, who know us not, Call us hopeless and unblest: When from flesh the spirit freed, Hastens homeward to return, Mortals cry, "A man is dead!" Angels sing," A child is born!"' 4 Born into the world above,

They our happy brother greet; Bear him to the throne of love, Place him at the Saviour's feet: Jesus smiles, and says, "Well done, "Good and faithful servant thou! "Enter, and receive thy crown, "Reign with me triumphant now." 5 Angels catch th' approving sound, Bow, and bless the just award; Hail the heir with glory crown'd, Now rejoicing with his Lord; Fuller joys ordain'd to know, Waiting for the general doom, When th' archangel's trump shall blów, "Rise, ye dead, to judgment come.'

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China.] HYMN 565. C. M.

WHY

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WHY do we mourn for dying friends,
shake at death's alarms?

'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends,
To call them to his arms.

2 Are we not tending upward too,
As fast as time can move?

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Nor should we wish the hours more slow,
To keep us from our love.

3 Why should we tremble to convey,
Their bodies to the tomb?
There once the flesh of Jesus lay,
And left a long perfume.

4 The graves of all his saints he blest,
And soften'd every bed:

Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying Head?

5 Thence he arose, ascending high,
And show'd our feet the way:
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,
At the great rising day.

6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise;
Awake, ye nations under ground;
Ye saints, ascend the skies.
Canada.] HYMN 566. L. M.

1 SHRINKING from the cold hand of death,
soon shall gather up my feet;

Shall soon resign this fleeting breath,
And die,-my father's God to meet.
2 Number'd among thy people, I

Expect with joy thy face to see :—
Because thou didst for sinners die,
Jesus, in death remember me!
30 that without a ling'ring groan,

I may the welcome word receive!
My body with my charge lay down,

And cease at once to work and live!

4 Walk with me through the dreadful shade, And certify'd that thou art mine,

My spirit calm, and undismay'd,

I shall into thy hands resign.

5 No anxious doubt, no guilty gloom,
Shall damp whom Jesu's presence cheers;
My light, my life, my God is come,
And glory in his face appears!

PAS

Angel's Hymn.] HYMN 567. L. M.
1 ASS a few swiftly fleeting years,
And all that now in bodies live,
Shall quit, like me, this vale of tears,
Their righteous sentence to receive.
2 But all before they hence remove,
May mansions for themselves prepare,

In that eternal house above:

And, O my God, shall I be there?
Nazareth.] HYMN 568. L. M.
THE morning flowers display their sweets,
And gay their silken leaves unfold,

As careless of the noontide heats,
As fearless of the evening cold.
2 Nipt by the wind's untimely blast,
Parch'd by the sun's directer ray,
The momentary glories waste,

The short-liv'd beauties die away. 3 So blooms the human face divine,

When youth its pride of beauty shows:
Fairer than spring the colours shine,
And sweeter than the virgin-rose.
4 Or worn by slowly-rolling years,
Or broke by sickness in a day,
The fading glory disappears,

The short-liv'd beauties die away.

5 Yet these, new-rising from the tomb,
With lustre brighter far shall shine,
Revive with ever-during bloom,
Safe from diseases and decline.

6 Let sickness blast, let death devour,
If heaven must recompense our pains:
Perish the grass, and fade the flower,
If firm the word of God remains.

Slateford.] HYMN 569. 26's & 4 7's.

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AGAIN we lift our voice,

And shout our solemn joy!
Cause of highest raptures this,
Raptures that shall never fail!
See a soul escap'd to bliss,

Keep the Christian festival!
2 Our friend is gone before
To that celestial shore;
He hath left his mates behind,
He hath all the storms outrode;
Found the rest we toil to find,
Landed in the arms of God.

3 And shall we mourn to see
Our fellow-prisoner free?
Free from doubts, and griefs, and fears,
In the haven of the skies:

Can we weep to see the tears
Wip'd for ever from his eyes?

4 No, dear companion, no!
We gladly let thee go,

From a suffering church beneath,
To a reigning church above:
Thou hast more than conquer'd death;
Thou art crown'd with life and love.

5 Thou, in thy youthful prime,

Hast leap'd the bounds of time:
Suddenly from earth releas'd,
Lo! we now rejoice for thee;
Taken to an early rest,
Caught into eternity.

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