4 To thee, our Father, would we look,
Our Rock, our Portion, and our Friend,
And on thy gracious love and truth.
With humble, steadfast hope depend.

544.

C. M.

Death of a Minister.

DODDRIDGE.

1 WHAT though the arm of conquering death
Does God's own house invade ;

What though our teacher and our friend
Is numbered with the dead ;-

2 Though earthly shepherds dwell in dust,
The agéd and the young;

The watchful eye in darkness closed,
And dumb th' instructive tongue;
3 Th' eternal Shepherd still survives,
His teaching to impart :

Lord, be our Leader and our Guide,
And rule and keep our heart.

4 Yes, while the dear Redeemer lives,
We have a boundless store,

And shall be fed with what he gives,
Who lives for evermore.

545.

10s. M.

Death of a Minister in his Prime.

MONTGOMERY

1 GO to the grave in all thy glorious prime, In full activity of zeal and power;

A Christian cannot die before his time;

The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour. 2 Go to the grave; at noon from labor cease;

Rest on thy sheaves; thy harvest-task is done; Come from the heat of battle, and in peace, Soldier, go home; with thee the fight is won. 3 Go to the grave; for there thy Saviour lay In death's embrace, ere he arose on high;

And all the ransomed, by that narrow way, Pass to eternal life beyond the sky. 4 Go to the grave; no; take thy seat above; Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord, Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love, And open vision for the written word.

546.

8 & 7s. M.

Death of a Pastor.

L. H. SIGOURNEY.

1 PASTOR, thou art from us taken
In the glory of thy years,
As the oak, by tempests shaken,

Falls ere time its verdure sears.
2 Pale and cold we see thee lying

In God's temple, once so dear,
And the mourners' bitter sighing
Falls unheeded on thine ear.
3 All thy love and zeal, to lead us

Where immortal fountains flow,
And on living bread to feed us,
In our fond remembrance glow.

4 May the conquering faith, that cheered thee
When thy foot on Jordan pressed,
Guide our spirits while we leave thee
In the tomb that Jesus blessed.

547.

S. M.

The Death of an aged Minister.

MONTGOMERY.

1 " SERVANT of God, well done!
Rest from thy loved employ ;

The battle fought, the victory won,
Enter thy Master's joy."

2 The voice at midnight came ;
He started up to hear;

A mortal arrow pierced his frame ;
He fell, but felt no fear.

3 Tranquil amid alarms,

It found him on the field,
A veteran slumbering on his arms,
Beneath his red-cross shield.

4 The pains of death are past;
Labor and sorrow cease;
And, life's long warfare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.

5 Soldier of Christ, well done!
Praise be thy new employ;
And, while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour's joy.

548.

L.M.

Death of a Parent.

LUTHERAN COLI..

WHILE you with mournful thoughts deplore
The parent gone, removed the friend,
With hearts resigned his grace adore
On whom your noblest hopes depend.

2 Does he not bid his children come

Through death's dark shades to realms of light: Yet, when he calls them to their home,

Shall fond survivors mourn their flight? 3 His word here let your souls rely Immortal consolation gives :

Your Heavenly Father cannot die,
Th' Eternal Friend for ever lives.

549.

L. M.

"Thy Will be done."

ANONYMOUS.

1 WHEN called, O Lord, to mourn the doom
Of one affection held most dear,

While o'er the closing, silent tomb,
The bleeding heart distils the tear,
Though love its tribute sure will pay,
And early streams of solace shun,

Still, still the humble soul would say,
In lowly dust, "Thy will be done."
2 Whate'er, O Lord, thou hast designed
To bring my soul to thee in trust,
If mercies or afflictions kind, -

For all thy dealings Lord are just,
Take all, but grant, in goodness free,

That love which ne'er thy stroke would shun;
Support this heart and strengthen me

To say in faith, "Thy will be done."

The Christian's Triumph over Death.

1 O, FOR a firm and lively faith,
Which may the grave defy,
And, trusting what the gospel saith,
May triumph when we die !

2 Joyful, with all the strength we have,
Our feeble lips would sing,

WATTS.

"Where is thy boasted victory, Grave?
O Death, where is thy sting?"

3 Pardon and life, how dear each word!
God life and pardon sends,
And, by our dying, rising Lord,
Insures to all his friends.

4 All glory be to God on high,
And endless thanks be paid,

Who makes us conquerors, though we die,
Through Christ our living Head.

551.

L. M.

The Light of the Gospel on the Tomb.

GASKELL.

1 DARK, dark indeed, the grave would be,

Had we no light, O God, from thee;

If all we saw were all we knew,
Or hope from reason only grew.

2 But fearless now we rest in faith,
A holy life makes happy death;
'T is but a change ordained by thee,
To set th' imprisoned spirit free.
3 Sad, sad indeed, 't would be to part
From those who long had shared our heart,
If thou hadst left us still to fear
Love's only heritage was here.

4 But calmly now we see them go
From out this world of pain and woe;
We follow to a home on high,
Where pure affections never die.

1 IN the broad fields of heaven,
In the immortal bowers
By life's clear river dwelling,
Amid undying flowers, -
There hosts of beauteous spirits,
Fair children of the earth,
Linked in bright bands celestial,
Sing of their human birth.

ANONYMOUS.

2 They sing of earth and heaven, —
Divinest voices rise

553.

To God, their gracious Father,
Who called them to the skies:
They all are there, in heaven,—

Safe, safe, and sweetly blest;
No cloud of sin can shadow

Their bright and holy rest.

7s. M.

The Pastor's Funeral.

H. S. WASHburn.

1 FATHER, gathered round the bier,
Aid thy weeping children here;