With zeal pursue the heavenly road,
Nor doubt a happy end.

426

78.

Reflections at the End of the Year.

WHILE with ceaseless course the sun
Hasted through the former year,
Many souls their race have run,

Never more to meet us here:
Fixed in an eternal state,

They have done with all below; We a little longer wait;

But how little-none can know. 2 Spared to see another year,

Let thy blessing meet us here;
Come, thy dying work revive,
Bid thy drooping garden thrive;
Sun of righteousness, arise!

Warm our hearts, and bless our eyes: Let our prayer thy pity move;

Make this year a time of love.

3 Thanks for mercies past receive,
Pardon of our sins renew;
Teach us, henceforth, how to live
With eternity in view;
Bless thy word to old and young,
Fill us with a Saviour's love;
When our life's short race is run,
May we dwell with thee above.

427

C. M.

Salvation approaching.

AWAKE, ye saints, and raise your eyes,
And lift your voices high!

Awake, and praise that sovereign love
That shows salvation nigh.

2 Swift on the wings of time it flies;
Each moment brings it near:
Then gladly view each closing day,
And each revolving year!

3 Not many years their round shall run,
Not many mornings rise,
Ere all its glories stand revealed
To our admiring eyes.

4 Ye wheels of nature, speed your course; Ye mortal powers, decay;

Fast as ye bring the night of death,
Ye bring eternal day.

AS flows the rapid river,

With channel broad and free,

Its waters rippling ever,
And hasting to the sea;
So life is onward flowing,
And days of offered peace,
And man is swiftly going,
Where calls of mercy cease.
2 As moons are ever waning,
As hastes the sun away,
As stormy winds, complaining,
Bring on the wintry day;
So fast the night comes o'er us—
The darkness of the grave—
And death is just before us:-
God takes the life he gave.

3 Say, gay one, is thy treasure
Laid up in worlds above?
And is it all thy pleasure
Thy God to praise and love?

Beware, lest death's dark river
Its billows o'er thee roll;
And thou lament forever
The ruin of thy soul.

429

DEATH.

C. M.

Preparation for Death.

IF I must die-oh! let me die
With hope in Jesus' blood-

The blood that saves from sin and guilt,
And reconciles to God.

2 If I must die-oh! let me die
In peace with all mankind,
And change these fleeting joys below
For pleasures more refined.

3 If I must die-and die I must-
Let some kind seraph come,
And bear me on his friendly wing
To my celestial home.

4 Of Canaan's land, from Pisgah's top,
May I but have a view;

Though Jordan should o'erflow its banks, I'll boldly venture through.

430

L. M.

The peaceful Death of the Righteous. SWEET is the scene when Christians die, When holy souls retire to rest: How mildly beams the closing eye!

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 Triumphant smiles the victor's brow, Fanned by some guardian angel's wing: O grave! where is thy victory now,

Ånd where, O death, where is thy sting! 431

S. M.

OH for the death of those

Who slumber in the Lord!
Oh be like theirs my last repose,
Like theirs my last reward.
2 Their bodies, in the ground,
In silent hope may lie,

Till the last trumpet's joyful sound
Shall call them to the sky.

3 Their ransomed spirits soar,
On wings of faith and love,
To meet the Saviour they adore,
And reign with him above.
4 With us their names shall live
Through long succeeding years,
Embalmed with all our hearts can give,
Our praises and our tears.

5 Oh for the death of those

Who slumber in the Lord!
Oh be like theirs my last repose,
Like theirs my last reward.

432

C. M.

On Recovery from Sickness.

O SAVIOUR of the faithful dead,
With whom thy servants dwell,

Though cold and green the turf is spread, Above their narrow cell,

2 No more we cling to mortal clay,
We doubt and fear no more,

Nor shrink to tread the darksome way
Which thou hast trod before.

3 When, soon or late, this feeble breath
No more to thee shall pray,
Support me in the vale of death,
And through the darksome way.

12s & 11s.

433 Fear of the Grave removed by Christ.

THOU art gone to the grave-but we will not deplore thee,

Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb;

The Saviour has passed through its portals before thee,

And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom.

2 Thou art gone to the grave-we no longer behold thee,

Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy

side;

But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold

thee,

And sinners may hope, since the Saviour hath

died.

3 Thou art gone to the grave-and its mansion forsaking,

Perchance thy weak spirit in doubt linger'd long; But the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on thy waking,

And the sound thou didst hear was the seraphim's song.