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4 Their hatred and their love is lost,

Their envy bury'd in the dust;
They have no share in all that's done,

Beneath the circuit of the sun.
5 Then what my thoughts design to do,

My hands, with all your might pursue,
Since no device, nor work is found,

Nor faith, nor hope, beneath the ground. 6 There are no acts of pardon past,

In the cold grave to which we haste;
But darkness, death, and long despair,
Reign in eternal silence there.

216.

Frailty and Folly. (C.M.) 1 HOW

COW short and hasty is our life!

How vast our soul's affairs !
Yet senseless mortals vainly strive,

To lavish out their years.
2 Our days run thoughtlessly along,

Without a moment's stay :
Just like a story or a song,

We pass our lives away.
3 God from on high invites us home,

But we march heedless on,
And ever hastning to the tomb,

Stoop downwards as we run.
4 How we deserve the deepest hell,

That slight the joys above!
What chains of vengeance should we feel,

That break such cords of love!

5 Draw us, O God, with sov'reign grace,

And lift our thoughts on high,
That we may end this mortal race,

And see salvation nigh.

217. The Shortness and Misery of Life. (C. M.) OUR

UR days, alas ! our mortal days,

Are short and wretched too;
“ Evil and few,” the patriarch says,

And well the patriarch knew.
2 'Tis but at best a narrow bound,

Tbat heay'n allows to men,
And pains and sins run thro' the round,

Of threescore years and ten.
3 Well, if ye must be sad and few,

Run on, my days, in haste;
Moments of sin, and months of woe,

Ye cannot fly too fast.
4 Let heav'nly love prepare my soul,

And call her to the skies,
Where years of long salvation roll,

And glory never dies. 218. Love to the Creatures dangerous. (C. M.) 1 OW vain are all things here below!

How false, and yet how fair !
Each pleasure hath its poison too,
And
every

sweet a snare.
2 The brightest things below the sky,

Give but a flattering light;
We should suspect some danger nigh,

Where we possess delight.

3 Our dearest joys, and nearest friends,

The partners of our blood,
How they divide our wav'ring minds,

And leave but half for God!
4 The fondness of a creature's love,

How strong it strikes the sense!
Thither the warm affections move,

Nor can we call them thence.
5 Dear Saviour, let thy beauties be,

My soul's eternal food;
And grace command my heart away,

From all created good. 219. The Pilgrimage of the Saints ; or, Earth and

Heaven. (C.M.)
1 LORD! what a wretched land is this,

That yields us no supply ;
No cheering fruits, no wholesome trees,

Nor streams of living joy! 2 But pricking thorns through all the ground,

And mortal poisons grow;
And all the rivers that are found,

With dangerous waters flow.
3 Yet the dear path to thine abode,

Lies through this horrid land;
Lord! we would keep the heavenly road,

And run at thy command.
4. Our souls shall tread the desert through,

With undiverted feet;
And faith, and flaming zeal subdue,

The terrors that we meet.

5 A thousand savage beasts of prey,

Around the forest roam ;
But Judah’s Lion guards the way,

And guides the strangers home.
6 Long nights and darkness dwell below,

With scarce a twinkling ray;
But the bright world to which we go,

Is everlasting day.
7 By glimmering hopes, and gloomy fears,

We trace the sacred road;
Through dismal deeps, and dangerous snares,

We make our way to God. 8 Our journey is a thorny maze,

But we march upward still ;
Forget these troubles of the ways,

And reach at Zion's hill.
9 See the kind angels at the gates,

Inviting us to come;
There Jesus the forerunner waits,

To welcome travellers home.
10 There on a green and flowery mount,

Our weary souls shall sit;
And with transporting joys recount,

The labours of our feet.
11 No vain discourse shall fill our tongue,

Nor trifles vex our ear;
Infinite grace

shall be our song,
And God rejoice to hear.
12 Eternal glories to the King,

That brought us safely through ;
Our tongues shall never cease to sing,

And endless praise renew.

220. Frail Life, and succeeding Eternity. (C. M.) 1 THE

THEE we adore, eternal name,

And humbly own to thee,
How feeble is our mortal frame !

What dying worms are we!
2 Our wasting lives grow shorter still,

As months and days increase ;
And every beating pulse we tell,

Leaves but the number less.
3 The year rolls round, and steals away,

The breath that first it gave;
Whate'er we do, where'er we be,

We're travelling to the grave. 4 Dangers stand thick through all the ground,

To push us to the tomb,
And fierce diseases wait around,

To hurry mortals home.
6 Good God! on what a slender thread,

Hang everlasting things !
Th' eternal states of all the dead,

Upon life's feeble strings.
6 Infinite joy, or endless woe,

Attends on every breath ;
And yet how unconcern'd we go,

Upon the brink of death!
7 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense,

To walk this dangerous road ;
And if our souls are hurried hence,

May they be found with God!

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