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6 As Isaac and Rebecca give

A pattern chaste and kind ;
So may this married couple live,

And die in friendship join'd. 7 On every soul assembled here,

O make thy face to shine;
Thy goodness more our hearts can cheer,

T'han richest food or wine.

OLD AGE.

248. The Aged Saint's Reflection and Hope. (C. M.)

up,

1 MY

Y God, my everlasting hope,

I live upon thy truth;
Thine hands have held

my

childhood
And strengthen'd all my youth,
2 My flesh was fashion’d by thy power,

With all these limbs of mine ;
And from my mother's painful hour,

I've been entirely thine.
3 Still has my life new wonders seen,

Repeated every year ;
Behold my days that yet remain,

I trust them to thy care.
4 Cast me not off when strength declines,

When hoary hairs arise ;
And round me let thy glory shine,

Whene'er thy servant dies.

5 Then in the history of my age,

When men review my days,
They'll read thy love in every page,

In every line thy praise.

249. The Aged Christian's Prayer and Song. (C.M.) 1 GOD OD of

of my childhood and my youth,

The guide of all my days,
I have declar'd thy heavenly truth,

And told thy wond'rous ways.
2 Wilt thou forsake my hoary hairs,

And leave my fainting heart?
Who shall sustain my sinking years,

If God my strength depart?
3 Let me thy power and truth proclaim,

To the surviving age,
And leave a savour of thy name,

When I shall quit the stage.
4 The land of silence and of death,

Attends my next remove;
O may these poor remains of breath,
Teach the wide world thy love!

PAUSE.
5 Thy righteousness is deep and high,

Unsearchable thy deeds;
Thy glory spreads beyond the sky,

And all my praise exceeds.
6 Oft have I heard thy threatnings roar,

And oft endur'd the grief;
But when thy hand has prest me sore,

Thy grace was my relief.

7 By long experience have I known,

Thy sovereign power to save;
At thy command I venture down,

Securely to the grave.
8 When I lie buried deep in dust,

My flesh shall be thy care;
These withering limbs with thee I trust,

To raise them strong and fair.

250. The Aged Christian's Reflection. (C. M.)
1
HOW
row vain a thought is bliss below,

'Tis all an airy dream!
How empty are the joys that flow

On pleasure's smiling stream !
2 O let my nobler wishes soar,

Beyond these seats of night;
In heaven substantial bliss explore,

And permanent delight.
3 No fleeting landscape cheers the gaze,

Nor airy form beguiles;
But everlasting bliss displays,

Her undissembled smiles.
4 Adieu ! to all below the skies;

Celestial guardian, come ;,
On thy kind wiog my soul would rise,

To her eternal home.

251. Consolations of the Aged Christian. (L. M.)
1
LORD, in thy great,

thy glorious name,
I place my hope, my only trust;
Save me from sorrow, guilt, and shame,
Thou ever gracious, ever just.

2 Attentive bow thy pitying ear,

Let mercy fly to my relief;
Be thou my refuge, ever near,

A sure defence from all my grief.
3 Thou art my rock, thy name alone,

The fortress where my hopes retreat :
O make thy power and mercy known,

To safety guide my trembling feet. 4 Preserve me from the fatal snare,

Of secret foes, who plot my fall;
And make my life thy tender care,

My God, my strength, my hope, my all. 5 To thy kind hand, O gracious Lord,

My soul I cheerfully resign;
My Saviour God, I trust thy Word,

For truth, immortal truth, is thine. 252. Sickness and Recovery. Hezekiah's Song.

Isaiah xxxviii, 9.
HEN we are rais'd from deep distress, ,

Our God deserves a song;.
We take the pattern of our praise

From Hezekiah's tongue.
2 The gates of the devouring grave

Are open'd wide in vain,
If he that holds the keys of death

Commands them fast again.
3 Pains of the flesh are wont t abuse

Our minds with slavish fears ;
“ Our days are past, and we shall lose

“ The remnant of our years."

I WHEN

4 Wechatter with a swallow's voice,

Or like a dove we mourn,
With bitterness instead of joys,

Afflicted and forlorn.
5 Jehovah speaks the healing word,

And no disease withstands;
Fevers and plagues obey the Lord,

And fly at his commands.
6 If half the strings of life should break,

He can our frame restore ;
He casts our sins behind his back,

And they are found no more.

DEATH,

253. The Vanity of Man as Mortal. (C.M.)

1 TEACH me the measure of my days, I

Thou maker of my frame;
I would survey life's narrow space,

And learn how frail I am.
2 A
span

is all that we can boast,
An inch or two of time;
Man is but vanity and dust,

In all his flower and prime.
3 See the vain race of mortals move,

Like shadows o'er the plain ;
They rage and strive, desire and love,
But all the poise is vain.

U

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