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1091

L. M.
The grave shall restore its trust.

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Take this new treasure to thy trust; And give these sacred relics room

To slumber in the silent dust. 2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear

Invade thy bounds : no mortal woes Can reach the peacefuil sleeper here,

While angels watch the soft repose. 3 So Jesus slept God's dying Son

Pilsed through the grave, and blest the bed;
Rest here, blest saint, till from his throne

The morning break, and pierce the shade.
Break from his throne, illustrious mom;

Attend, 0 earth! his sov'reign word;
Restore thy trust-a glorious form-

Call'd to ascend and meet the Lord.

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1092

7th P. M. 8 lines Ts.
Absent from the body--present with the Lord.
L
O! the pris'ner is released,

Lightend of his fleshly load;
Where the weary are at rest,

He is gather'd into God! Lo! the pain of life is past,

All his warfare now is o'er: Death and hell behind are cast;

Griet' and suff'ring are no more. 2 Join we then, with one accord,

*In the new and joyful song: Absent from our lovig Lord,

We shall not continue long; We shall quit the house of clay,

We a better lot shall share, We shall see the realms of day,

Meet our happy brother there.

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4 The graves of all bis saints he blest,

And soften'd every bed :
Where should the dying members rest,

But with their dying lead !
5 Thence he arose, ascending high,

And show'd our feet the way:
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,

At the great rising day.
6 Then let the last, lond trumpet sound,

And bid our kindred rise :-
Awake, ye nations under ground;

Ye saints, ascend the skies.

1095

C. M.
Awaking from the dust with shouts of praise.
THROUGH sorrow?s night, and danger's path,
We, foll'wers of our suttring Lord,

Are marching to the tomb.
9 There, when the turmoil is no more,

And all our powers decay,
Our cold remains in solitude
Shall sleep the years away.
8 Our labours done, securely laid

In this our last retreat,
Unheeded, o'er our silent dust,

The storms of earth may best.
4 Yet not thus buried, or extinct,

The vital spark shall lie;
For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise

To seek its kindred sky.
These ashes, too, this little dust,
Our Father's care shall keep,
Till the last angel rise and break
The long and dreary sleep.

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