2 When I stand before the throne,
Dress'd in beauty not my own,
When I see Thee as Thou art,
Love Thee with unsinning heart,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know-
Not till then-how much I owe.

3 When the praise of heaven I hear,
Loud as thunder to the ear,
Loud as many waters' noise,
Sweet as harp's melodious voice,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know--
Not till then-how much I owe.

4 Ev'n on earth, as through a glass
Darkly, let Thy glory pass;
Make forgiveness feel so sweet,
Make Thy Spirit's help so meet;
Ev'n on earth, Lord, make me know
Something of how much I owe.

5 Chosen, not for good in me,
Waken'd up from wrath to flee,
Hidden in the Saviour's side,
By the Spirit sanctified;

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Teach me, Lord, on earth to show
By my love how much I owe.

Amen.

Communion of the Sick.

"The Lord our Righteousness."

1 JESUS, Thou art my Righteousness,
For all my sins were Thine;

Thy death hath bought of God my peace,
Thy life hath made Him mine.

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2 For ever here my rest shall be,
Close to Thy bleeding side;
This all my hope, and all my plea,
For me the Saviour died!

3 My dying Saviour and my God,
Fountain for guilt and sin,
Sprinkle me ever with Thy blood,

And cleanse and keep me clean!

4 Wash me, and make me thus Thine own; Wash me, and mine Thou art;

Wash me,

but not my feet alone;

My hands, my head, my heart!

5 The atonement of Thy blood apply,
Till faith to sight improve;

Till hope in full fruition die,
And all my soul be love. Amen.

403 "Blessed are they which are called unto
the marriage-supper of the Lamb."

1 AT God's right hand, in countless numbers,
The just, made perfect, joyful stand;
Freed from whate'er on earth encumbers,
They've gain'd the promised, heavenly land.
Our souls, with sweet anticipation,

By faith these glorious realms descry; And from each kindred, tongue, and nation We hear loud anthems fill the sky.

2 When, O when shall I have the favour

To see the approach of those blest days, When I shall welcome my dear Saviour With solemn strains, with joyful lays?

How blest will then be my condition,
When in my flesh I Christ shall see!
Though happy in His love's fruition
Even here, with Him I long to be.

3 What heavenly joy and consolation
This hope affords unto my heart,
That Christ, the God of my salvation,
Will me receive when I depart;
Then in His presence I for ever

With the redeem'd shall sing His praise;
O make me ready, blessèd Saviour,

To leave this world and see Thy face. Amen.

The Burial of the Dead.

404 "We are more than conquerors through Him that loved us.'

1 GREAT Captain of salvation,
We bless Thy glorious Name,
Of death and hell the Victor,
With all their power and shame :
Weak, helpless, poor, and trembling,
As in ourselves we stand,
We triumph, more than conquerors,
Through Thine Almighty hand.

2 [Our brother's fight is over,
His earthly race is run;
'Twas by Thy grace and power,
The prize of life he won;
He now is sweetly sleeping,
His spirit rests with Thee,

And though Thy saints are weeping,
Their song is "Victory!"]

3 Soon Thou wilt come in glory,
With all Thy Church to shine,
Our bodies raised in honour

And beauty, Lord, like Thine:
Then, then, we'll raise still louder
The song which now we sing,
"O grave where is thy victory?
O death where is thy sting?"

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4 O Son of God, we thank Thee,
We bless Thy holy Name,
Thy love once made Thee willing
To bear our sin and shame;
And now Thy love is waiting

Thy Church, like Thee, to raise ;
First-born of many brethren,

Thine, Thine be all the praise! Amen.

405 "Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in Me."

1 MOST holy Lord and God,
Holy, Almighty God,

Holy and most merciful Saviour,
Thou eternal God;

Grant that we may never
Lose the comforts from Thy death;
Have mercy, O Lord.

2 Most holy Lord and God,
Holy, Almighty God,
Holy and most merciful Saviour,

Thou eternal God;

Bless Thy congregation,

Through Thy sufferings, death, and blood;

Have mercy, O Lord.

Amen.

BURIAL OF A CHILD.

406 "He shall gather the lambs with His arm.” 1 GENTLE Shepherd, Thou hast still'd Now Thy little lamb's brief weeping: Ah! how peaceful, pale, and mild, In its narrow bed 'tis sleeping, And no sigh of anguish sore Heaves that little bosom more.

2 In this world of care and pain,

Lord, Thou would'st no longer leave it;
To the sunny, heavenly plain

Thou dost now with joy receive it;
Clothed in robes of spotless white,
Now it dwells with Thee in light.

3 Ah! Lord Jesus, grant that we
Where it lives may soon be living,
And the lovely pastures see
That its heavenly food are giving;

Then the gain of death we prove,
Though Thou take what most we love.

Amen.

Thanksgiving after Sickness.

407 "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits."

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PSALM CIII.

O BLESS the Lord, my soul,
His grace to thee proclaim,
And all that is within me join
To bless His holy Name.