I

HYMN CLXXXVIII.
And let this feeble body fail,

And let il faint or die ;
My soul Mall quit the mournful vale,

And foar to worlds on high :
Shall join the disembody'd saints,

And find its long-fought reft,
That only bliss for which it pants,

In the Redeemer's breaft.
2 In hope of that immortal crown,

I now the cross sustain,
And gladly wander up and down,

And smile at toil and pain :
I suffer on my threescore years,

'Till my Deliv'rer come;
And wipe away his servant's tears,

And take his exile home. 3 O what hath Jesus brought for me !

Before my ravish'd eyes
Rivers of life divine I see,

And trees of paradise :
I see a world of spirits bright,

Who taste the pleasures there !
They all are rob'd in spotless white,

And conqu’ring palms they bear. 4 O, what are all my suff'rings here,

If, Lord, thou count me meet
With that enraptur'd host t'appear,

And worship at thy feet!
Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,

Take life or friends away;
But let me find them all again

In that eternal day.

1

HYMN CLXXXIX.
Harry foul, thy days are ended;

All thy mourning days below;
Go by angel-guards attended,

To the fight of Jesus go.
2 Waiting to receive thy spirit,

Lo! the Saviour stands above,
Shews the purchase of his merit,

Reaches out the crown of love.
3 Struggle through thy latest pafsion,

To thy dear Redeemer's breast,
To his uttermost salvation,

To his everlasting reft.
4 For the joy he sets before thee,

Bear a momentary pain ;
Die, to live a life of glory,
Suffer, with thy Lord to reign.

HYMN CXC.
HAD

EAD of the church triumphant,
We joyrully adore thee,

Till thou appear

Thy members here
Shall sing like those in glory.
We lift our hearts and voices,
With bleft anticipation;

And cry aloud,

And give to God
The praise of our salvation.
2 While in affiliation's furnace,
And pafling through the fire,

Thy love we praise,

Which knows no days,
And ever brings us nigher.

I

We clap our hands exulting
In thine almighty favour ;

The love divine,

Which made us thine,
Shall keep us thine for ever.
3 Thou dost conduct thy people
Through torrents of temptation ;

Nor will we fear,

While thou art near,
The fire of tribulation :
The world with fin and Satan,
In vain our march opposes ;

By thee we shall

Break thro' them all,
And fing the song of Mofes.
4 By faith we see the glory
To which thou shalt restore us,

The cross defpise

For that bigh prize Which thou haft ret before us : And if thou count us worthy, We each, as dying Stephen,

Shall see thee stand

At God's right-hand, To take us up to heaven.

HYMN CXCI.

Lord, I adore thy gracious will,
Thro' ev'ry inftrument of ill

My Father's goodneis see : Accept the complicated wrong of Shemei's hand and Shemei's tongue,

As kind rebukes from thee.

x

HYMN CXCII. Jesu, the weary'wand'rer's reft,

Give me thy easy yoke to bear ; With stedfast patience arm my breast,

With fpotless love, and lowly fear. 2 Thankful I take the cup from thee,

Prepar'd and mingled by thy skill, Tho' bitter to the taste it be,

Pow'tful the wounded foul to heal. 3 Be thou, O Rock of Ages, nigh!

So Thall each murin'ring thought be gone ; And grief, and fear, and care shall fly

As clouds before the mid-day sun. 4 Speak to my warring paflions, “ Peace;"

Say to my trembling heart, “ Be ftill;" Thy pow'r my strength and fortress is,

For all things serve thy sov'reign will,
s o death! where is thy fting? where now

Thy boasted victory, O grave?
Who shall contend with God'? or who

Can hurt, whom God delights to save ?

1

HYMN CXCIII.
Wxy should I doubt his love at last,

With anxious thoughts perplext?
Who fav’d me in the troubles past,

Will save me in the next.
2 Will save, till at my lateft hour

With inore than conquest bleft,
I foar beyond temptation's pow'r,

To my Redeemer's breast.

FUNER A L.

HYMN CXCIV.

AH!

lovely appearance of death, What sight upon earth is so fair? Not all the gay pageants that breathe,

Can with a dead body compare:
With folemo delight I survey

The corpse when the spirit is filed,
In love with the beautiful clay,

And longing to lie in its stead. 2 How blert is our brother, bereft

Of all that could burden his mind;
How easy the soul that has left

This wearif me body behind !
Of evil incapable thou,

Whose relics with envy I see,
No longer in misery now,

No longer a finner like me. 3 This earth is affected no more

With fickness, or fhaken with pain :
The war in the members is o'er,

And never Mall vex him again :
No anger henceforwar', or thame,

Shall redden this innocent clay ;
Extinct is the animal fame,

And passion is vanish'd away. 4. This languishing head is at rest,

Its thinking and aching are o'er ;
This quiet immovable breaft

Is heav'd by affli&ion no more:
This heart is no longer the seat

Of trouble and torturing pain;
It ceases to Autter and beat,

It never thall flutter again.