4 Endless pleasure, pain excluding,
Sickness there, no more can come ;
There, no fear of wo, intruding,

Sheds o'er heaven a moment's gloom.
5 Now, ye mourners! cease to languish,
O'er the grave of those you love;
Far removed from pain and anguish,
They are chanting hymns above.

620.

C. M.

Dying in the Lord.

1 HEAR what the voice from heaven proclams, For all the pious dead;— "Sweet is the savor of their names, And soft their sleeping-bed.

2 "They die in Jesus, and are blessed,-
How kind their slumbers are!

From sufferings, and from sins, released,
And freed from every snare.

3 "Far from this world of toil and strife,
They 're present with the Lord;
The labors of their mortal life
End in a large reward."

Mourning with Hope.

1 WHY should our tears in sorrow flow
When God recalls his own;

And bids them leave a world of wo,
For an immortal crown?

2 Is not e'en death a gain to those
Whose life to God was given?
Gladly to earth their eyes they close
To open them in heaven.

3 Their toils are past-their work is done,
And they are fully blest;

They fought the fight, the vict❜ry won,
And entered into rest.

4 Then let our sorrows cease to flow,-
God has recalled his own;
But let our hearts, in every woe,
Still say," Thy will be done!"

622.

C. M.

·Prayer in view of Death.

1 WHEN, bending o'er the brink of life,
My trembling soul shall stand,
Waiting to pass death's awful flood,
Great God! at thy command ;-

2 When every long-loved scene of life
Stands ready to depart;

When the last sigh that shakes the frame
Shall rend this bursting heart ;—

3 O thou great Source of joy supreme!
Whose arm alone can save,-
Dispel the darkness that surrounds
The entrance to the grave.

4 Lay thy supporting, gentle hand
Beneath my sinking head;
And, with a ray of love divine,
Illume my dying bed.

5 Leaning on thy dear faithful breast,
May I resign my breath,

And in thy fond embraces lose
"The bitterness of death."

623.

S. M.

Reflections on past Generations.

1 HOW swift the torrent rolls,

That bears us to the sea!

The tide which hurries thoughtless souls
To vast eternity!

2 Our fathers !-where are they,

With all they called their own?—
Their joys and griefs-and hopes and cares,
And wealth and honor-gone!

3 But joy or grief succeeds

Beyond our mortal thought,

While still the remnant of their dust

Lies in the grave forgot.

4 There, where the fathers lie,

Must all the children dwell;

Nor other heritage possess,
But such a gloomy cell.

5 God of our fathers! hear,—
Thou everlasting friend!—
While we, as on life's utmost verge,
Our souls to thee commend.

6 Of all the pious dead

May we the footsteps trace,
Till with them, in the land of light,
We dwell before thy face.

624.

L. M.

Death of the Righteous.

1 HOW 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;
So gently shuts the eye of day;
So dies a wave along the shore.

3 A holy quiet reigns around,

A calm which life nor death destroys, Nothing disturbs that peace profound, Which his unfettered soul enjoys.

4 Farewell, conflicting hopes and fears!
Where lights and shades alternate dwell;
How bright th' unchanging morn appears!
Farewell, inconstant world! farewell!

5 Life's duty done, as sinks the clay,
Light from its load the spirit flies;
While heaven and earth combine to say,-
"How blest the righteous when he dies!"

625.

8s and 7s.

The dying Saint comforted.

1 HAPPY soul! thy days are ending,-
All thy mourning days below:
Go, the angel-guards attending-
To the sight of Jesus go!
Waiting to receive thy spirit,

Lo! the Saviour stands above;
Shows the fulness of his merit-

Reaches out the crown of love.

2 For the joy he sets before thee,
Bear a momentary pain;
Die-to live a life of glory;
Suffer-with thy Lord to reign:
Struggle, through thy latest passion,
To thy dear Redeemer's breast,—
To his uttermost salvation,-

626.

To his everlasting rest.

7s and 4.

Support in Death.

1 WHEN the vale of death appears,-
Faint and cold this mortal clay,-
Kind Forerunner! soothe my fears,
Light me through the darksome way;
Break the shadows,-

Usher in eternal day.

2 Upward from this dying state,
Bid my waiting soul aspire;
Open thou the chrystal gate;
To thy praise attune my lyre:
Then, triumphant,-

I will join th' immortal choir

3 When the mighty trumpet blown,
Shall the judgment-dawn proclaim;
From the central, burning throne,
Mid creation's final flame;

With the ransomed,—

627.

Thou wilt own my worthless name.

C. M.

Mourning with Hope.

1 THAT once-loved form, now cold and dead, Each mournful thought employs;

And nature weeps, her comforts fled,
And withered all her joys.

2 Hope looks beyond the bounds of time,When what we now deplore

Shall rise in full immortal prime,

And bloom to fade no more.

3 Then cease, fond nature! cease thy tears, Religion points on high;

There everlasting spring appears,
And joys that cannot die.

628.

L. M.

Death of an Infant.

1 SO fades the lovely, blooming flower,-
Frail smiling solace of an hour!
So soon our transient comforts fly,
And pleasure only blooms to die.
2 Is there no kind,-no lenient art,
To heal the anguish of the heart?
Spirit of grace! be ever nigh,
Thy comforts are not made to die.
3 Bid gentle patience smile on pain,
Till dying hope shall live again;
Hope wipes the tear from sorrow s eye,
And faith points upward to the sky.

629.

C. M.

The Grave peaceful.

1 HOW still and peaceful is the grave,
Where,-life's vain tumults past,-
Th' appointed house, by heaven's decree,
Receives us all at last!

2 The wicked there from troubling cease,
Their passions rage no more;
And there the weary pilgrim rests
From all the toils he bore.

3 All, leveled by the hand of death,
Lie sleeping in the tomb,

Till God, in judgment, call them forth
To meet their final doom.

630.

C. M.

Prospect of Death.

1 MY soul! come, meditate the day,
And think how near it stands,

When thou must quit this house of clay
And fly to unknown lands.

2 And you, my eyes! look down and view The hollow gaping tomb;

This gloomy prison waits for you,
Whene'er the summons come.