LEAVITT.

7. D.

JOSEPH P. HOLBROOK,

FINE.

D.S.

1000 clothed with immortality. 1 "SPIRIT, leave thy house of clay; Lingering dust, resign thy breath! Spirit, cast thy chains away;

Dust, be thou dissolved in death!" Thus the mighty Saviour speaks,

While the faithful Christian dies; Thus the bonds of life he breaks,

And the ransomed captive flies.

2 "Prisoner, long detained below,
Prisoner, now with freedom blest,
Welcome from a world of woe;
Welcome to a land of rest!'
Thus the choir of angels sing,
As they bear the soul on high,
While with hallelujahs ring

All the regions of the sky.

3 Grave, the guardian of our dust, Grave, the treasury of the skies, Every atom of thy trust

Rests in hope again to rise: Hark! the judgment-trumpet calls, "Soul, rebuild thy house of clay; Immortality thy walls,

And eternity thy day!"

JAMES MONTGOMERY, ALT.

1001 Dying in the Lord.

1 HARK! a voice divides the sky,Happy are the faithful dead!

In the Lord who sweetly die,
They from all their toils are freed;
Them the Spirit hath declared

Blest, unutterably blest;
Jesus is their great reward,

Jesus is their endless rest.

2 Followed by their works they go, Where their Head is gone before; Reconciled by grace below,

Grace hath opened mercy's door; Justified through faith alone,

Here they knew their sins forgiven; Here they laid their burden down, Hallowed and made meet for heaven.

3 Who can now lament the lot
Of a saint in Christ deceased?
Let the world, who know us not,
Call us hopeless and unblest:
When from flesh the spirit freed
Hastens homeward to return,
Mortals cry,
A man is dead!"
Angels sing, "A child is born!"

66

4 Born into the world above,
They our happy brother greet;
Bear him to the throne of love,
Place him at the Saviour's feet:
Jesus smiles, and says, Well done!
Good and faithful servant thou!
Enter, and receive thy crown;
Reign with me triumphant now."

CHARLES WESLEY.

TALMAR.

8, 7.

ISAAC BAKER WOODBURY.

1002 Bereavement and resignation. 1 JESUS, while our hearts are bleeding O'er the spoils that death has won, We would, at this solemn meeting, Calmly say, Thy will be done.'

2 Though cast down, we're not forsaken; Though afflicted, not alone:

Thou didst give, and thou hast taken;
Blessed Lord, "Thy will be done."

3 Though to-day we 're filled with mourning, Mercy still is on the throne;

With thy smiles of love returning,
We can sing, "Thy will be done."
4 By thy hands the boon was given;
Thou hast taken but thine own:
Lord of earth, and God of heaven,
Evermore, "Thy will be done.'

THOMAS HASTINGS,

1003 Conflict ended—crown waiting. 1 HAPPY Soul, thy days are ended, All thy mourning days below; Go, by angel guards attended, To the sight of Jesus go!

Waiting to receive thy spirit,

Lo! the Saviour stands above; Shows the purchase of his merit,

Reaches out the crown of love.

2 Struggle through thy latest passion, To thy great Redeemer's breast, To his uttermost salvation,

To his everlasting rest.

For the joy he sets before thee,
Bear a momentary pain;

Die, to live a life of glory;
Suffer, with thy Lord to reign.

CHARLES WESLEY,

[7. D. Tune, Leavitt. Page 870.]

1004 The dying believer.

1 DEATHLESSs spirit, now arise;
Soar, thou native of the skies!
Pearl of price by Jesus bought,
To his glorious likeness wrought,-

2 Go, to shine before the throne;
Deck the Mediator's crown;
Go, his triumphs to adorn;
Made for God, to God return.

3 Lo! he beckons from on high;
Fearless to his presence fly:
Thine the merit of his blood,
Thine the righteousness of God.

4 Angels, joyful to attend,
Hovering round thy pillow, bend;
Wait to catch the signal given,
And convey thee quick to heaven.
5 Shudder not to pass the stream:
Venture all thy care on him,-
Him, whose dying love and power
Stilled its tossings, hushed its roar.
6 Safe is the expanded wave,
Gentle as a summer's eve;
Not one object of his care
Ever suffered shipwreck there.

7 See the haven full in view:
Love divine shall bear thee through;
Trust to that propitious gale;
Weigh thine anchor, spread thy sail.

8 Saints in glory, perfect made,
Wait thy passage through the shade;
Ardent for thy coming o'er,
See, they throng the blissful shore.

AUGUSTUS M. TOPLADY.

OUR FATHER. 6, 4.

EDWARD L. WHITE.

Hear, hear our suppliant breath,
Keep us in life and death,
Thine, only thine.

MRS. FELICIA D. HEMANS.

[7, 61. Tune, Gethsemane. Page 407.]

1006 Death of a child.

1 WHEREFORE should I make my moan Now the darling child is dead? He to early rest is gone,

He to paradise is fled:

I shall go to him, but he
Never shall return to me.

2 God forbids his longer stay;
God recalls the precious loan;
God hath taken him away,

From my bosom to his own: Surely what he wills is best; Happy in his will I rest.

3 Faith cries out, "It is the Lord, Let him do as seems him good!" Be thy holy name adored;

Take the gift awhile bestowed: Take the child no longer mine; Thine he is, forever thine.

CHARLES WESLEY.

THE LONG HOME. 7, 8, 7.

SIR ARTHUR SEYMOUR SULLIVAN,

1007 on the death of a little child. 1 TENDER Shepherd, thou hast stilled Now thy little lamb's brief weeping: Ah, how peaceful, pale, and mild In its narrow bed 'tis sleeping! And no sigh of anguish sore Heaves that little bosom more.

2 In this world of care and pain,
Lord, thou wouldst no longer leave it;
To the sunny heavenly plain

Thou dost now with joy receive it;
Clothed in robes of spotless white,
Now it dwells with thee in light.
3 Ah, Lord Jesus, grant that we
Where it lives may soon be living,
And the lovely pastures see

That its heavenly food are giving; Then the gain of death we prove, Though thou take what most we love.

FROM THE GERMAN. TR. BY MISS C. WINKWORTH.

[6. Tune, Jewett. Page 241.]

1008 For a child's funeral.

1 Go to thy rest, fair child!

Go to thy dreamless bed,

Gentle, and meek, and mild,
With blessings on thy head.
Fresh roses in thy hand,

Buds on thy pillow laid,
Haste from this blighting land,
Where flowers so quickly fade.

2 Before thy heart could learn In waywardness to stray; Before thy feet could turn

The dark and downward way; Ere sin could wound thy breast, Or sorrow wake the tear; Rise to thy home of rest,

In yon celestial sphere!

3 Because thy smile was fair, Thy lip and eye so bright, Because thy cradle-care

Was such a fond delight; Shall love, with weak embrace, Thy heavenward flight detain? No, angel! seek thy place

Amid yon cherub train.

MRS. LYDIA M. SIGOURNEY.

REQUIEM.

6, 8, 8.

THOMAS HASTINGS.

1009 Friends separated.
1 FRIEND after friend departs:
Who hath not lost a friend?
There is no union here of hearts
That finds not here an end:
Were this frail world our only rest,
Living or dying, none were blest.
2 Beyond the flight of time,
Beyond this vale of death,
There surely is some blessed clime
Where life is not a breath,
Nor life's affection transient fire,
Whose sparks fly upward to expire.

3 There is a world above,

Where parting is unknown;
A whole eternity of love,

Formed for the good alone:
And faith beholds the dying here
Translated to that happier sphere.
4 Thus star by star declines,
Till all are passed away,

As morning high and higher shines,
To pure and perfect day;
Nor sink those stars in empty night;
They hide themselves in heaven's own
light.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

[7, 6. Tune, Munich. Pag.] 1010 Present with the Lord. 1 THE precious seed of weeping To-day we sow once more, The form of one now sleeping, Whose pilgrimage is o'er. Ah! death but safely lands him Where we too would attain; Our Father's voice demands him, And death to him is gain.

2 He has what we are wanting,
He sees what we believe;
The sins on earth so haunting
Have there no power to grieve,
Safe in his Saviour's keeping,
Who sent him calm release,-
'Tis only we are weeping,-

He dwells in perfect peace.

3 The crown of life he weareth,
He bears the shining palm,
The "Holy, holy," shareth,
And joins the angels' psalm,
But we, poor pilgrims, wander
Still through this land of woe
Till we shall meet him yonder,
And all his joy shall know.

CARL J. P. SPITTA. TR. BY MISS C, WINKWORTH