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HEE we adore, Eternal Name!
Tand humbly own to Thee
How feeble is our mortal frame,
2 Our wasting lives are short'ning still,
3 Great God! on what a slender thread
4 Infinite joy, or endless woe
And yet, how unconcern'd we go
5 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense,
ND must this body die?
This mortal frame decay?
And must these active limbs of mine
2 God, my Redeemer, lives,
And often, from the skies,
Looks down and watches all my dust,
3 Array'd in glorious grace
Shall these vile bodies shine,
4 These lively hopes we owe
5 Dear Lord, accept the praise
Till tunes of nobler sounds we raise
HY should we start and fear to die?
W What tim'rous worms we mortals are!
Death is the gate of endless joy,
And yet we dread to enter there.
2 The pains, the groans, and dying strife,
3 Oh, if my Lord would come and meet,
4 Jesus can make a dying bed
Fee. soft as downy pillows are, While on his breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.
BENEATH our feet and o'er our head
Beneath us lie the countless dead,
2 Death rides on ev'ry passing breeze,
Each season has its own disease,
3 Turn, sinner, turn: thy danger know:
4 Turn, Christian, turn: thy soul appiy
That they who underneath thee lie
HEN, rising from the bed of death,
I see my Maker face to face,
Oh, how shall I appear!
2 If yet, while pardon may be found,
My heart with inward horror shrinks,
3 When Thou, O Lord! shalt stand disclosed In majesty severe,
And sit in judgment on my soul,
Oh, how shall I appear!
4 But there's forgiveness, Lord, with Thee:
5 Oh, let Thy boundless mercy shine
Correct my passions, mend my heart,
6 And may I taste Thy richer grace,
When Christ to judgment shall descend
H, where shall rest be found,
Rest for the weary soul?
'T were vain the ocean's depths to sound, Or pierce to either pole.
2 The world can never give
The bliss for which we sigh:
3 Beyond this vale of tears
Unmeasured by the flight of years-
4 There is a death whose pang
5 Lord God of truth and grace!
Teach us that death to shun:
6 Here would we end our quest;
The life of perfect love, the rest
PEACE OR TRIUMPH IN DEATH.
OW blest the righteous when he dies! When sinks a weary soul to rest! How mildly beam the closing eyes!
How gently heaves th' expiring breast!
2 So fades a summer cloud away;
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
3 A holy quiet reigns around,
A calm which life nor death destroys;
4 Farewell, conflicting hopes and fears,
5 Life's labor done, as sinks the clay,