« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
And join with the triumphant saints “How shall I appear!"
That sing Jehovah's praise. 1 WHEN rising from the bed of death, O'erwhelmed with guilt and fear,
6 My knowledge of that life is small;
The eye of faith is dim;
But it's enough that Christ knows all,
And I shall be with Him. 2 If yet while pardon may be found,
Rev. Richard Baxter. (1615–1689.) 1681. ab. and alt. And mercy may be sought,
Prepared to die.
C. M. My heart with inward horror shrinks, 1277
2 Tim. iv. 6, 7, 18. And trembles at the thought;
I DEATH may dissolve my body now, 3 When Thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclosed And bear my spirit home; In majesty severe,
Why do my minutes move so slow, And sit in judgment on my soul,
Nor my salvation come? O how shall I appear?
2 With heavenly weapons, I have fought
The battles of the Lord; 4 But Thou hast told the troubled soul, Who does her sins lament,
Finished my course, and kept the faith,
And wait the sure reward.
3 Jesus, the Lord, shall guard me safe
From every ill design; 5 Then see the sorrows of my heart,
And to His heavenly kingdom take Ere yet it be too late,
This feeble soul of mine. And add my Saviour's dying groans
4. God is my everlasting aid, To give those sorrows weight.
And hell shall rage in vain; 6 For never shall my soul despair
To Him be highest glory paid,
And endless praise. Amen!
Rev. Isaac Watts. (1674-1748.) 1709. ab.
I EARTH, with its dark and dreadful ills, 1276 “To live is Christ, and to die is Gain." C. M.
Recedes and fades away: i LORD, it belongs not to my care
Lift up your heads, ye heavenly hills, Whether I die or live;
Ye gates of death give way. To love and serve Thee is my share,
2 My soul is full of whispered song, And this Thy grace must give.
My blindness is my sight;
The shadows that I feared so long 2 If life be long, I will be glad
Are all alive with light.
3 The while my pulses faintly beat, If short, yet why should I be sad
My faith doth so abound,
I feel grow firm beneath my feet 3 Christ leads me through no darker rooms
The green, immortal ground.
4. That faith to me a courage gives, He that unto God's kingdom comes
Low as the grave to go:
I know that my Redeemer lives, , Come, Lord, when grace hath made me meet
That I shall live, I know,
5 The palace walls I almost see For, if Thy work on earth be sweet,
Where dwells my Lord and King: What will Thy glory be?
O grave, where is thy victory, 5 Then I shall end my sad complaints,
O death, where is thy sting!
Miss Alice Cary. (1820-1871.) 1870.
Phil. i. 21.
3 O Lord, look down, O Lord, forgive, In Sickness.
O help me from on high; 2 Sweet to look inward, and attend
Since no man to himself must live,
Nor to himself can die.
4 And when, through feebleness or pain, 3 Sweet to look back, and see my name
My thoughts are far from Thee, In life's fair book set down;
Though I forget Thee, Saviour, then,
O yet forget not me.
5 In Him that bore our griefs and pains 4 Sweet on His faithfulness to rest,
Shall they that suffer boast,
Who with the Father ever reigns, Sweet on His covenant of grace
And with the Holy Ghost.
Rev. John Mason Neale. (1818-- 1866.) 1854. ab 5 Sweet, in the confidence of faith, 1281
Hymn by the Sick-bed of a Mother,
O Thou, who, in the olive shade, Sweet to lie passive in His hands,
When the dark hour came on,
Didst, with a breath of heavenly aid, 6 Sweet to rejoice in lively hope,
Strengthen Thy suffering Son;
2 O by the anguish of that night,
Send us down blest relief; Rev. Augustus Montague Toplady. (1740-1778.) 1776. ab.
Or to the chastened let Thy might
Hallow this whelming grief. 1280
3 And Thou, that, when the starry sky I O THOU, Who lov'st to send relief
Saw the dread strife begun,
Didst teach adoring faith to cry,
4 By Thy meek Spirit, Thou, of all 2 Thy will be done, I still would say,
That e'er have mourned the chief, Whate'er that will may be;
Blest Saviour, if the stroke must fall, And let this trial, day by day,
Hallow this whelming grief.
Mrs. Felicia Dorothea Hemans. (1794–1835.) 1834. alt
9 If, when de-ceived and wound.ed here, We could not
4 Gently the passing spirit fied,
Sustained by grace divine: 2 But Thou wilt heal that broken heart,
O may such grace on me be shed, Which, like the plants that throw
And make my end like thine. Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Rev. Thomas Dalc. (1797–1870.) 1818. Breathes sweetness on our woe. 3 When joy no longer soothes or cheers,
1284 Death of the Righteous. And e'en the hope that threw I BEHOLD the western evening light! A moment's sparkle o'er our tears
It melts in deepening gloom: Is dimmed and vanished too;
So calmly Christians sink away, 4 O who would bear life's stormy doom,
Descending to the tomb. Did not Thy wing of love
2 The wind breathes low; the withering leaf Come, brightly wafting through the gloom
Scarce whispers from the tree: Our peace-branch from above?
So gently flows the parting breath, 5 Then sorrow, touched by Thee,grows bright When good men cease to be. With more than rapture's ray;
3 How beautiful on all the hills As darkness shows us worlds of light
The crimson light is shed ! We never saw by day.
'Tis like the peace the Christian gives Thomas Moore. (1779—1852.) 1816. ab.
To mourners round his bed. 1283
4 How mildly on the wandering cloud 1 DEAR as thou wert, and justly dear,
The sunset beam is cast ! We will not weep for thee:
'Tis like the memory left behind One thought shall check the starting tear,
When loved ones breathe their last. It is, that thou art free.
5 And now above the dews of night 2 And thus shall faith's consoling power
The yellow star appears: The tears of love restrain:
So faith springs in the hearts of those O who that saw thy parting hour,
Whose eyes are bathed in tears.
6 But soon the morning's happier light 3 Triumphant in thy closing eye
Its glory shall restore;
And eyclids that are scaled in death Joy breathed in thine expiring sigh,
Shall wake to close no more.
Rev. William Bourn Oliver Peabody. (:799–1847.) 1823.
Longing for Rest. 1285
1286 "I would not live alway."
Ps. lv. 2 I would not live alway, thus fettered by sin, 1 O HAD I, my Saviour, the wings of a dove,
Temptation without and corruption within; How soon would I soar to Thy presence aE'en the rapture of pardon is mingled with
How soon would I fee where the weary have And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent rest, tears.
And hide all my cares in Thy sheltering
I feel me a captive while banished from
Andlook on to heaven, and long to be home.
3 Ah, there the wild tempest for ever shall Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode, cease; Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the No billow shall ruffle that haven of peace; bright plains,
Temptation and trouble alike shall depart, And the noontide of glory eternally reigns? All tears from the eye, and all sin from the
heart. 5 Where the saints of all agesin harmony meet, Their Saviour and brethren transported to 4 Soon, soon may this Eden of promise be greet;
mine; While the anthems of rapture unceasingly Rise, bright Sun of glory, no more to deroll,
cline: And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the Thylight, yet unrisen, the wildernesscheers; soul.
O what will it be when the fulness appears? Rev. William Augustus Muhlenberg. (1796) 1823.
Rev. Henry Francis Lyte. (1793—1847.) 1834
bend my way, Part we here at break of day, Part we here
at break of day.
Gen. xxxii. 26.
Parting Words. 1287
Life is like a dying taper,
O my soul, why wish to stay? 2 Let me go, I may not tarry,
Why not spread Thy wings, and fly
Straight to yonder world of joy?
Where my risen Lord appears; 2 See that glory, how resplendent!
Brighter far than fancy paints;
There, in majesty transcendent,
Which withdraws me from your sight; Spread thy wings, my soul, and fly
But, translated into light,
3 Joyful crowds, His throne surrounding, Though unseen you hear me sing.
Sing with rapture of His love;
Through the heavens His praises sounding, + Heaven's broad day hath o'er me broken,
Filling all the courts above:
Spread thy wings, my soul, and fly
Straight to yonder world of joy.
4 Go, and share His people's glory, Come up hither, come and see.
Midst the ransomed crowd appear;
Thine a joyful, wondrous story,
One that angels love to hear:
Spread thy wings, my soul, and fly 1 What is life? 'Tis but a vapor,
Straight to yonder world of joy.
Rev. Thomas Kelly. (1769–1855.) 1809.