FUNERAL. 1 F Funeral of a faithful Minister. AR from affliction, toil, and care, The breathless clay shall slumber here, 2 The gospel was his joy and song, 3 Now he resides where Jesus is, 4 The Churches' loss we all deplore,. 5 But we are hasting to the tomb; Then, dearest Lord, receive us home, HYMN 566. L. M. COLLYER. Eccl. xii. 7. Escap'd the prison of his clay, The new inhabitant of bliss, To heav'n directs his wond'rous way. Ye fields, that witness'd once his tears, Ye winds, that wafted oft his sighs, Ye mountains, where he breath'd his pray'rs When sorrow's shadows veil'd his eyes, No more the weary pilgrim mourns, No more affliction wrings his heart; Th' unfetter'd soul to God returnsForever he and anguish part!— Receive, O earth, his faded form, In thy cold bosom let it lie; Safe let it rest from ev'ry stormSoon must it rise no more to die! HYMN 567. L. M. The grave. Job iii. 17. THE grave is now a favor'd spot, To saints who sleep, in Jesus bless'd For there the wicked trouble not, 2 At rest in Jesus' faithful arms; At rest as in a peaceful bed; They labor, sorrow, sigh no more, 1 HYMN 568. L. M. WATTS. UNVEIL thy bosom, faithful tomb, Take this new treasure to thy trust; 2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear Pass'd thro' the grave, and blest the bed; Rest here, blest saint, till from his throne The morning break, and pierce the shade. 4 Break from his throne, illustrious morn; Attend, O earth! his sov'reign word; Restore thy trust-a glorious formCall'd to ascend and meet the Lord. 1 HOW Death of a Brother. blest is our brother bereft Of all that could burden his mind; the soul that has left How easy This wearisome body behind! Of evil incapable thou, Whose relics with envy I see, No longer in misery now, No longer a sinner like me. 2 This earth is affected no more With sickness, or shaken with pain; And passion is vanish'd away. Is heav'd by affliction no more 4 The lids he so seldom could close, These fountains can yield no suppliesThese hollows from water are free; The tears are all wip'd from these eyes, And evil they never shall see. 5 To mourn and to suffer is mine, While bound in a prison I breathe, And still for deliverance pine, And press to the issues of death. What now with my tears I bedew, Oh, shall I not shortly become! My spirit created anew, Ere I am consign'd to the tomb! Death of a Sister. 1'T The heav'n-born spirit is fled; IS finish'd! the conflict is past, Her wish is accomplish'd at last, And now she's entomb'd with the dead. The months of affliction are o'er, The days and the nights of distress; To mingle with angels of light, |