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16 aprile


Bth P. M. 4 lines 79

The heathen mother.
CEE that heuthen mother stand

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With her own maternal hand

'Mid the waves her infaut throw,
2 Hark! I hear the piteous scream!

Frightful monsters seize their prey;
Or the dark and bloody stream

Bears the struggling child away.
3 Fainter now, and fainter still,

Breaks the cry upon the enr;
But the mother's heart is steel;

She, unmoved, thật cry can hear!
4 Send, o send the Bible there,

Let its precepts reach her heart;
She may then her children spare

Act the mother's tender part.

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Missionary meeting.
TESUS! in Christian love we meet,
All in their hand some talent bear,
And lay it humbly, freely tbere.
2 Yes, for thy gospel's cause, with jny,
Our hands, our hearts, we would employ:
O smile upon us, from above,
That bless'd may be our work of love.
3 Then let us feel thy presence near,
Whilst met in holy union bere :
Our zeal, our love, do thou increase,
And let us reap the fruits of peace.

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3 Through its dark and narrow portal

Once they bore thee to thy rest; There a ray of light immortal, Like a sunbeam from the west,

Burst the shadows And the grave thenceforth was blest.

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4 By the light that thug was given

To the darkness of the tomb-
By the blessed light of heaven,
Gilding scenes of earthly gloom,

Star of gladness,
All our night with joy illume.



6 From our circle, little brother,

Early bast thou pass'd away! But the angels say,-- Another Joing our boly song to-day!

Weep no longer-
Join with them the sacred lay.

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6th P. M. 6 lines 78. The early dead.

, Often droop and lose their bloomPass away in childhood's hour,

To the cold and silent tomb Bodies laid beneath the sod Spirits gone away to God!

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2 Oft along the busy street,

Sad and tearful mourniers go; Mothers for their children weep,

Weep that death has laid the low Nipp'd the buds before their bloom, Hid'them in the silent tomb

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6 Then let us weep as Jesus wept;

Hallow'd by love each gentle sigh;
Since in the grave our Saviour slept,

The Christian need not fear to die.

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9th P. M. 87, 87.
Funeral hymn.
CUISTER, thou wast mild and lovely,

Gentle as the summer breeze,
Pleasant as the air of evening

When it floats among the trees.
2 Peaceful be thy silent slumber,

Peaceful in the grave so low :'
Thou no more wilt join our number,

Thou no more our songs shalt know.
3 Dearest sister, thou hast left us !

Here thy loss we deeply feel;
But 'tis God that hath bereft us,

He can all our sorrow heal.
4 Yet again we hope to meet thee,

When the day of life is fled,
Then, in heaven, with joy to greet thee,

Where no farewell tear is shed.

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C. M.
At a funeral.

Dear spirit, rest thee now;
E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod,

His seal was on thy brow.
2 Dust, to its narrow home beneath;

Soul, to its rest on high;
They that have seen thy look in death,

No more may fear to die.

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