8 I'd rather have peace, and live at ease,
Than to be afflicted thus by thee;
When blooming youth is gone,
And old age is coming on,

I will climb up the mountain Calvary.

9 There is no better time than this,

To travel the mountain as you see;
When old age is coming on,

And you are burden'd with your sins,
Then how can you climb up Calvary.

10 O leave this melancholy theme,

I can't enjoy any peace for thee;
There is time enough yet,

And the journey's not so great,

I can soon climb the mountain Calvary.

11 O hark! I hear a doleful sound, You greatly should alarmed be;

A blooming youth is gone,

And laid into the tomb,

Who refused to climb mount Calvary.

12 Alas! I know not what to do,

You greatly have alarmed me;

For in sin I have gone on,

Till I fear I am undone,

Lord, help me to climb up Calvary.

13 O tarry not in all the plain,

Lest it prove a dangerous snare to thee; But look unto the man,

Who was slain for your sins,

And he'll help you to climb up Calvary.

WE blooming youth, I pray give ear,

A death-bed lamentation hear!

Ere death shall blast the opening flower,
O make thy peace and calling sure.

2 In pride and wealth and pleasure's maze.
I've spent the morning of my days;
Did oft in gayest circles shine,

Nor thought my sun would ere decline.

3 But death has aimed the fatal blow,
Down to the grave I soon must go;
Distressing pains my vitals tear,
My soul is rack'd with keen despair.
4 My beauty, once my greatest pride,
The cold and silent grave will hide;
The rose, so late in sweetest bloom,
The hungry worm will soon consume.
5 Oft I've adorn'd this blooming face,
My limbs have decked with sweetest grace,
But though so lovely and so fair,
The winding sheet I soon must wear.

6 In sinful pleasures I have spent
The golden moments God hath lent;
And now,
beneath his awful frown,
I soon shall sink in anguish down.
7 Oft I have heard the Gospel call, '
But madly have rejected all;
And now the day of grace is o'er,
I sink, alas! to rise no more.

8 Oft I have felt the inward smart,
And anguish keen has seized my heart,
And oft, alone, resolv'd in tears,
To seek the Lord in riper years.
9 But with conviction still I strove,
Despis'd a Savior's offer'd love,
Refused with sinful joys to part,
And grieved his spirit from my heart.
10 Now soon with me shall time be o'er;
My sun shall rise and set no more;
But sinking down in endless pain,
Shall never, never rise again.

11 Ye blooming youth, a long farewell,
O shun the path that leads to hell;
Seek now your slighted Savior's face,
No more despise his offer'd grace.
12 No more his loving spirit grieve,
Lest he your precious soul should leave;
O think, that ere to-morrow's sun,
You may for ever be undone.

13 O Christian friends, a long adieu,
I've been reprov'd and warn'd by you;
Oft have I heard you weeping cry,
"Turn, sinner, turn, why will you die?"
14 But mercy has forever fled,

I sink among the silent dead;

My life is o'er, my glass is run,
Farewell to all below the sun.

154

P. M.

On the Death of a young woman.

HARK my gay friends, to a melancholy

sound,

'I he shafts of death are flying, to mow your

glory down;

There was one of your number, a youth in early bloom,

She's call'd away by death and laid in the tomb.

2 But when she was here, she was blooming and gay,

And now she is call'd for, and taken away,
Ah! little did she think, of being called for so

soon,

But O! her morning sun, it has gone down at

noon.

3 And now she is dead, she is speaking unto

you,

Her language is this, bid your follies adieu, Prepare for to meet, the last struggles of this life;

That your souls may be ransom'd, in the regions of light.

4 Altho' she is dead, she will soon be forgot, Her friends and relations will soon her forget;

Their sighs and their tears, they will all be wip'd away;

While her body lies mouldering, and turning to clay.

5 Now here she must lie, till the resurrection

morn,

Her body then be chang'd, in the image of

God's Son;

Although she is sleeping, beneath the silent clod,

Her voice to you is saying, prepare to meet your God.

And now she is dead, she's inviting you to

come,

Go read the inscription, that's wrote upon her tomb,

Go down in yonder grave-yard, go read you there with care;

Remember 'twont be long before you all must lie there.

LAS! what hourly dangers rise;
What snares beset my way!

To heaven, O let me lift my eyes,
And hourly watch and pray.

2 How oft my mournful thoughts complain,
And melt in flowing tears!
My weak resistance, ah! how vain!
How strong my foes and fears.

3 O gracious God, in whom I live,
My feeble efforts aid;

Help me to watch, and pray, and strive,
Though trembling and afraid.

4 Increase my faith, increase my hope,
When foes and fears prevail;
And bear my fainting spirit up,
Or soon my strength will fail.

5 Whene'r temptations fright my heart,
Or lure my feet aside,