3 The gospel free salvation brings,
And Jesus is the gospel theme;
In death, the pardon'd sinner sings,
And triumphs in the Saviour's name:
O death, where is thy sting? they cry;
O grave, where is thy victory?
4 Ah! let me die the death of those
Whom Jesus washes in his blood;
Who on his faithfulness repose,
And know indeed that he is God:
Then round his throne we all shall meet,
And cast our crowns beneath his feet.
[L. B. 51.] 2 lines 6 & 4-7.
AGAIN We lift our voice,
And shout our solemn joys;
Cause of highest raptures this,
Raptures that shall never fail:
See, a soul escaped to bliss,
Keep the Christian festival!
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
Wiped for ever from his eyes?
3 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.
4 Thou in thy youthful prime,
Hast leap'd the bounds of time:
Suddenly from earth released;
Lo! we now rejoice for thee,
Taken to an early rest,
Caught into eternity.
Thither may we repair,
That glorious bliss to share:
We shall see the welcome day;
We shall to the summons bow;
Come, Redeemer, come away;
Now prepare, and take us now.
GIVE glory to Jesus our Head,
With all that encompass his throne:
A widow, a widow indeed,
A mother in Israel is gone!
The winter of trouble is past;
The storms of affliction are o'er;
Her struggle is ended at last,"
And sorrow and death are no more.
2 The soul has o'ertaken her mate,
And caught him again in the sky:
Advanced to her happy estate,
And pleasures that never shall die:
Where glorified spirits, by sight,
Converse in their holy abode;
As stars in the firmament bright,
And pure as the angels of God.
3 Behold! what a triumph is there,
Where all in his praises agree;
His beautiful character bear,
And shine with the glory they see:
The glory of God and the Lamb,
(While all in the ecstasy join)
Darts into their spiritual frame,
And gives the enjoyment divine.
4 In loud hallelujahs they sing,
And harmony echoes his praise;
When lo! the celestial King
Pours out the full light of his face:
The joy, neither angel nor saint
Can bear, so ineffably great;
But lo! the whole company faint
And heaven is found-at his feet.
Now let our mourning hearts revive,
And all our tears be dry;
Why should those eyes be drown'd in grief,
Which view a Saviour nigh?
2 What though the arm of conq'ring death
Does God's own house invade?
What though the prophet and the priest
Be number'd with the dead?
3 Though earthly shepherds dwell in dust,
The aged and the young;
The watchful eye in darkness closed,
And mute the instructive tongue:
4 The eternal Shepherd still survives,
New comfort to impart:
His eye still guides us, and his voice
Still animates our heart.
5 "Lo, I am with you!" saith the Lord:
My church shall safe abide;
For I will ne'er forsake my own,
Whose souls in me confide."
6 Through every scene of life and death,
This promise is our trust;
And this shall be our children's song,
When we are cold in dust.
WHAT Scenes of horror and of dread
Await the sinner's dying bed!
Death's terrors all appear in sight,
Presages of eternal night.
2 His sins in dreadful order rise,
And fill his soul with sad surprise:
Mount Sinai's thunders stun his ears,
And not one ray of hope appears.
3 Tormenting pangs distract his breast:
Where'er he turns, he finds no rest:
Death strikes the blow; he groans and dies,
And in despair and horror flies.
4 Not so the heir of heavenly bliss;
His soul is fill'd with conscious peace:
A steady faith subdues his fear;
He sees the happy Canaan near.
5 His mind is tranquil and serene;
No terrors in his looks are seen;
His Saviour's smile dispels the gloom,
And soothes his passage to the tomb.
6 Lord, make my faith and love sincere,
My judgment sound, my conscience clear;
And when the toils of life are past,
May I be found in peace at last.
How long shall death, the tyrant, reign,
And triumph o'er the just?
While the rich blood of martyrs slain
Lies mingled with the dust.
2 Lo, I behold the scatter'd shades!
The dawn of heaven appears;
The sweet immortal morning spreads
Its blushes round the spheres.
3 I see the Lord of glory come,
And flaming guards around;
The skies divide to make him room;
The trumpet shakes the ground.
4 I hear the voice, Ye dead arise!
And lo! the graves obey;
And waking saints, with joyful eyes,
Salute the expected day.
5 They leave the dust, and on the wing
Rise to the midway air;
In shining garments meet their King,
And low adore him there.
6 O may our humble spirits stand
Among them, clothed in white!
The meanest place at his right hand
Is infinite delight.
7 How will our joy and wonder rise,
When our returning King
Shall bear us homeward through the skies, On love's triumphant wing!
GREAT God! I own thy sentence just,
And nature must decay:
I yield my body to the dust,
To dwell with fellow clay.
2 Yet faith may triumph o'er the grave,
And trample on the tombs:
My Jesus, my Redeemer lives;
My God, my Saviour comes.
3 The mighty Conqueror shall appear,
High on a royal seat;
And death, the last of all his foes,
Lie vanquished at his feet.
Though greedy worms devour my skin,
And gnaw my wasting flesh:
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