4 Jesus can make a dying bed 1 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, The tall, the wise, the reverend head, 3 Great God! is this our certain doom! Still walking downward to the tomb, 4 Grant us the pow'r of quick'ning grace, 1 Then, when we drop this dying flesh, 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! Blest, unutterably blest; 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.' 1 China.] HYMN 565. C. M. WHY WHY do we mourn for dying friends, 'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends, 2 Are we not tending upward too, Nor should we wish the hours more slow, 3 Why should we tremble to convey, 4 The graves of all his saints he blest, Where should the dying members rest, 5 Thence he arose, ascending high, 6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound, 1 SHRINKING from the cold hand of death, Shall soon resign this fleeting breath, Expect with joy thy face to see :— I may the welcome word receive! 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, PAS Angel's Hymn.] HYMN 567. L. M. In that eternal house above: And, O my God, shall I be there? As careless of the noontide heats, The short-liv'd beauties die away. 3 So blooms the human face divine, When youth its pride of beauty shows: The short-liv'd beauties die away. 5 Yet these, new-rising from the tomb, 6 Let sickness blast, let death devour, Slateford.] HYMN 569. 26's & 4 7's. 1 AGAIN we lift our voice, And shout our solemn joy! Keep the Christian festival! 3 And shall we mourn to see Can we weep to see the tears 4 No, dear companion, no! From a suffering church beneath, 5 Thou, in thy youthful prime, Hast leap'd the bounds of time: |