Can reach the peaceful sleeper here,
While angels watch its soft repose.

3 So Jesus slept; God's dying Son

Passed thro' the grave, and blessed the bed: Then rest, dear saint, till from his throne, The morning break, and pierce the shade. 4 Break, sacred morning, from the skies! Then, clothed anew in bright array, Immortal form! to life arise, And swell the song of endless day. 596.

L. M. FAWCETT.

1 THOU, God of mercy! wilt indulge
The flowing tear, the heaving sigh,
When righteous persons fall around,
When tender friends and kindred die.

2 Yet not one anxious, murmuring thought
Should with our mourning passions blend,
Nor should our bleeding hearts forget
Th' almighty, ever-living Friend.

3 Beneath a numerous train of ills,
Our feeble flesh and heart may fail;
Yet shall our hope in thee, our God,
O'er every gloomy fear prevail.

4 Parent, Protector, Guardian, Guide!
Thou art each tender name in one;
On thee we cast our every care,
And comfort seek from thee alone.
5 Our Father God! to thee we look,
Our rock, our portion, and our friend!
And on thy gracious love and truth
Our sinking souls shall still depend.
597.

L. M. MRS. BARBAULD.

1 AS fades the landscape from the sight, When evening shades obscure the light; So fades, alas! the joys of earth,

And wither ere they scarce have birth.
2 As fades the lovely blooming flow'r,
Frail smiling solace of an hour;
So soon our transient comforts fly,
And pleasures only bloom to die."

3 As fades our friendship's early joy,
The seeming gold is half alloy;
That tie that binds the human heart,
The closer drawn, will sooner part.
4 Thus fade our sweetest comforts here,
Our dearest friends soon disappear;
When the loud call from God is giv'n,
They sleep in death to wake in heaven.
5 But there are joys that never fade,
Where these privations ne'er invade;
Where virtue its rewards shall prove,
And triumph in redeeming love.

598.

L. M. RIPPON'S COLL.
1 THE God of Love will sure indulge
The flowing tear, the heaving sigh,
When righteous persons fall around,-
When tender friends and kindred die.
2 Yet not one anxious murm'ring thought
Should with our mourning passions blend;
Nor would our bleeding hearts forget
Th' Almighty, ever-living friend.

3 Beneath a numerous train of ills,
Our feeble flesh and heart may fail;
Yet shall our hope in thee, our God,
O'er every gloomy fear prevail.

4 Parent and husband, guard and guide,-
Thou art each tender name in one:
On thee we cast our every care,
And comfort seek from thee alone.
5 Our Father God, to thee we look,
Our rock, our portion, and our friend,
And on thy cov'nant-love and truth
Our sinking souls shall still depend.
$99. C. M. DODDRIDGE.

Death and Burial of Christ.

WHY do we mourn departing friends,
Or shake at death's alarms?
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to his arms.

2 Are we not tending upward too,
To heaven's desired abode ?

How should we wish the hours more slow,
Which keep us from our God?

3 Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb ?

'Twas there the Saviour's body lay,
And left a long perfume.

4 The graves of all his saints he blest,
And softened every bed:

Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying Head?

5 Thence he arose, ascending high,
And showed our feet the way:
Up to the Lord his saints shall fly
"At the great rising day.

6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise;
Awake, ye nations under ground!
Ye saints! ascend the skies.

600. C. M. PRATT'S COLL

A Warning from the Grave.
1 BENEATH our feet and o'er our head
Is equal warning given:

Beneath us lie the countless dead,
Above us is the heaven!

2 Death rides on every passing breeze,
And lurks on every flower;

Each season has its own disease,
Its peril every hour.

3 Turn, mortal turn!-thy danger know!
Where'er thy foot can tread

The earth rings hollow from below,
And warns thee of her dead!

601.

C. M. PRATT'S COLL.

The House appointed for all Living. 1 HOW still and peaceful is the grave, Where life's vain tumult's past,

Th' appointed house, by heaven's decree, Receives us all at last!

2 The wicked there from troubling ceaseTheir passions rage no more;

And there the weary pilgrim rests
From all the toils he bore.

3 All, levelled by the hand of death,
Lie sleeping in the tomb,
Till God in judgment call them forth,
To meet their final doom.

602.

S. M. ANONYMOUS.

Uncertainty of life.

1 TO-MORROW, Lord, is thine,
Lodged in thy sovereign hand;
And if its sun arise and shine.
It shines by thy command.
2 The present moment flies,
And bares our life away;
O make thy servants truly wise,
That they may live to-day.
3 Since on this winged hour
Eternity is hung,

Waken by thine almighty power
The aged and the young.

4 One thing demands our care;
Oh, be it still pursued-
Lest, slighted once, the season fair,
Should never be renew'd.

5 To Jesus may we fly.

Swift as the morning light,

Lest life's young golden beam should die
In sudden, endless night.

603.

12s. J. WILLIAMS.

The Chariot.

1 THE chariot! the chariot! its wheels roll in fire,

As the Lord cometh down in the pomp of his ire; Lo, self-moving it drives on its pathway of cloud,

And the heavens with the burden of God-head are bow'd.

2 The glory! the glory! around him are pour'd Mighty hosts of the angels that wait on the Lord, And the glorified saints, and the martyrs are there,

And there all who the palm-wreaths of victory wear!

3 The trumpet! the trumpet! the dead have all heard:

Lo, the depths of the stone-cover'd charnel are stirr'd!

From the sea, from the earth, from the south, from the north,

All the vast generations of man are come forth! 4 The judgment! the judgment! the thrones are all set,

Where the Lamb and the white-vested elders are met!

There all flesh is at once in the sight of the Lord,

And the doom of eternity hangs on his word. 5 0 mercy! O mercy! look down from above, Great Creator, on us, thy sad children, with love!

When beneath to their darkness the wicked are driven,

May our justified souls find a welcome in hea

ven!

604.

C. M.

DODDRIDGE.

Death of a Minister.

1 NOW let our mourning hearts revive, And all our tears be dry;

Why should those eyes be drowned in grief, That view a Saviour nigh?

2 What though the arm of conquering death Does God's own house invade?

What though the prophet and the priest
Are numbered with the dead?

3 Though earthly shepherds dwell in dustThe aged and the young

The watchful eye in darkness closed,
And mute th' instructive tongue;-
4 Th' eternal Shepherd still survives,
New comfort to impart;

His eye still guides us-and his voice
Still animates the heart.

5 Through every scene of life and death,
This promise is our trust;

And this shall be our children's song,
When we are cold in dust.