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Perish the grass, and fade the flower,
Since firm the word of God remains.

On the Death of a Young Person.

LIFE is a span, a fleeting hour;

How soon the vapour flies ! Man is a tender transient flower, That e'en in blooming dies.

2 The once lov'd form, now cold and dead,

Each mournful thought employs; And nature weeps her comforts fied; And wither'd all her joys.

But wait the interposing gloom,

And lo! stern winter flies;
And dress'd in beauty's fairest bloom
The flowery tribes arise.

Hope looks beyond the bounds of time,

When what we now deplore Shall rise in full immortal prime, And bloom to fade no more.

200. The Frailty of Life urging to Spiritual Wisdom.

LORD, what a feeble frame is ours !

How vain a thing is man !
How frail are all his boasted powers !
And short, at best, his span!

Swift as the feather'd arrow flies,

And cuts the yielding air ;
Or as a kindling meteor dies,

Ere it can well appear :

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So pass our fleeting years away,

And time runs on its race
In vain we ask a moment's stay,
Nor will it slack its pace.

But, Lord! what mighty things depend

On our precarious breath! And soon this dying life will end In endless life or death.

Oh! make us truly wise, to leam

How very frail we are;
That we may mind our grand concern,
And for our change prepare.

201. Life the only Season of Preparation for Eternity.

Life is the time to serve the Lord,
The time to insure the great reward ;
The day of grace, and mortals may
Secure the blessings of the day.

T'he living know that they must die ;
But all the dead in silence lie;
They have no share in all that's done
Beneath the circuit of the sun.

There are no acts of pardon pass'd
In the cold grave to which we haste;
Nor penitence nor prayer are known,
Where death and darkness hold their throne.

Then the great work we have to do,
Let us with all our might pursue ;
Since no device nor work is found,
Nor faith nor hope, beneath the ground.



The Peace of the Grave.—Job iii. 17-19.

How still and peaceful is the grave,

Where, life's vain tumults past,
The appointed house, by heaven's decree,
Receives us all at last !

The wicked there from troubling cease ;

There passions rage no more; And there the weary pilgrim rests From all the toils he bore.

There rest the prisoners, now releas'd

From slavery's sad abode ;
No more they hear the oppressor's voice,
Or dread the tyrant's rod.

There, servants, masters, small, and great,

Partake the same repose;
And there, in peace the ashes blend
Of those who once were foes.

All, levell’d by the hand of death,

Lie sleeping in the tomb ;
Till God in judgment call them forth
To meet their righteous doom.


The vegetable Creation an Emblem of the
Resurrection of Man.

All nature dies and lives again :

The flower that paints the field, And trees that crown the mountain's brow,

To blasting winter yield.

Yet, soon reviving, plants and flowers

Anew shall deck the plain;
The woods shall hear the voice of spring,
And flourish green again.

So to the dreary grave consign'd,

Man sleeps in death's dark gloom;
But an eternal morn will wake
The slumbers of the tomb.

Oh may the grave become to me

The bed of peaceful rest,
Whence I at length shall gladly rise,
And mingle with the blest!

I see in faith my leader nigh;

Jesus, my Saviour, lives :
Before him death's pale terrors fly,
And my faint heart revives.

Lord of my life! inspire my heart

With love and strength divine;
Nor let thy presence e'er depart,
For life and death are thine.

204. Revelation of Everlasting Life. Eph. v. 7-11.

Glory to God, and endless praise !
Now he unveils his gracious throne;
Unfolds to man his wondrous ways,
And makes his hidden mercies known.

No more we seek the dubious ray
That faintly cheerd the heathen sage ;
Behold! an everlasting day
Beams from the gospel's glorious page.

The tomb no more is full of dread :
We are as pilgrims on our road;
And though death’s valley we must tread,
There is beyond a blest abode.

Then hence, ye grov'ling cares of earth!
Away, ye sinful deeds of night!
We will assert our heavenly birth,
And walk as children of the light.

205. Hope of Heaven by the Resurrection of Christ.

Blest be the everlasting God,

The Father of our Lord !
Be his abounding mercy prais’d,
His majesty ador'd.

When from the dead he rais'd his Son,

And call'd him to the sky,
He gave us all a lively hope
Of rising, ne'er to die.

What though the frame of man requires

That we should see the dust ;
Since Christ, our pledge and pattern, rose,
So all his followers must.

'There's an inheritance divine,

Reserv'd against that day;
'Tis uncorrupted, undefild,
And cannot fade away.

Saints by the power of God are kept,

Till the salvation come ;
We walk by faith, a ; strangers here,

Till he shall call us home.

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