HYMN XLII.
At the Death of a Believer.
HY do we mourn departing Friends,
Or shake at Death's Alarms?
'Tis but the Voice that Jefus fends
To call them to his Arms.
Are we not tending upward too,
As faft as Time can move?
Why should we with the Hours more flow,
That keep us from our Love?
Why should we tremble to convey
Their Bodies to the Tomb:
There the dear Flefh of Jefus lay,
And left a fweet Perfume.
The Graves of all his Saints he blefs'd,
And foft'ned every Bed;
Where fhould the dying Members reft,
But with their dying Head?
Thence he arofe, afcending high,
And fhew'd our Feet the Way!
Up to the Lord our Flefh fhall fly
At the great rifing Day.
EACH me the Measure of my Days,
Thou Maker of my Frame;
I would furvey Life's narrow Space,
And learn how frail I am.
A Span is all that we can boaft,
An Inch or two of Time:
Man is but Vanity and Duft
In all his Flow'r and Prime.
See the vain Race of Mortals move,
Like Shadows o'er the Plain,
They rage and ftrive, defire and love,
But all their Noife is vain.
Some walk in Honour's gaudy Show,
Some dig for golden Ore :
They toil for Heirs, they know not who,
And ftrait are feen no more.
We are but Strangers here below,
As all our Fathers were;
May we be well prepar'd to go,
When we the Summons hear;
HYMN XLIV.
The Same.
Y Soul, come meditate the Day,
And think how near it ftands,
When thou must quit this House of Clay,
And fly to unknown Lands.
Oh could we die with thofe that die,
And place us in their Stead!
Then would our Spirits learn to fly,
And converfe with the Dead.
Then fhould we fee the Saints above
In their own glorious Forms,
And wonder why our Souls fhould love
To dwell with mortal Worms.
A Funeral Hymn for a Believer.
IS finish'd! 'tis done!
"The Spirit is fled,
The Pris'ner is gone,
The Chriftian is dead;
The Chriftian is living,
In Jefus his Love,
And gladly receiving
A Kingdom above.
All Honour and Praise
Are Jesus's Due;
Supported by Grace,
He fought his Way thro':
Triumphantly glorious,
Thro' Jefus's Zeal,
And more than victorious,
O'er Sin, Death, and Hell.
Then let us record
The conqu❜ring Name, Our Captain and Lord
With Shoutings proclaim; Who truft in his Paffion,
And follow our Head,
To certain Salvation
We all fhall be led.
O Jefus ! lead on
Thy militant Care,
And give us the Crown
Of Righteoufnefs there:
Where dazzl'd with Glory
The Seraphim gaze,
Or proftate adore thee
In Silence of Praife.
Come, Lord and difplay
Thy Sign in the Sky,
And bear us away
To Manfions on high;
The Kingdom be giv'n,
The Purchase divine,
And crown us in Heav'n
Eternally thine.
OSANNA to Jesus on high!
Another is enter'd his Reft,
Another is 'fcap'd to the Sky,
And lodg'd in Immanuel's Breaft:
The Soul of our Sifter is gone
To heighten the Triumph above,
Exalted to Jefus's Throne,
And clafp'd in the Arms of his Love.
How happy the Angels that fall
Tranfported at Jefus's Name!
The Saints whom he fooneft fhall call
To fhare in the Feaft of the Lamb!
No longer imprison'd in Clay,
Who next from his Dungeon fhall fly? Who firft fhall be fummon'd away? My merciful God-Is it I?
Jefus! If this be thy Will,
That fuddenly I should depart,
Thy Council of Mercy reveal,
And whisper the Call to my
O give me a Signal to know
If foon thou would'st have me to move,
And leave the dull Body below,
And fly to the Regions of Love.
HYMN XLVII.
The Same.
HANKS be to God, whofe faithful Love
Hath call'd another to his Breast :
Tranflated him to Joys above,
To Mansions of eternal Reft.
By minift'ring Spirits convey'd,
Lodg'd in the Garner of the Sky,
He refts; in Abraham's Bofom laid,
He lives with God, no more to die.
O that we all may thus break thro',
The Crown with holy Violence feize,
The ftarry Crown to Conqueft due,
The Crown of Life and Righteousness !
Will not the righteous Judge beftow
The Prize on all who feek him here;,
And long, while fojourning below,
To fee their much-lov'd Lord appear
He will, (our Hearts cry out) he will
Thefe eager Wishes more than meet,
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