Support in Death implored.
1 WHEN the vale of death appears,
Faint and cold this mortal clay,
O my Father, soothe my fears,
Light me through the darksome way;
Break the shadows,
Usher in eternal day.
2 Starting from this dying state,
Upward bid my soul aspire;
Open thou the crystal gate,
To thy praise attune my lyre;
Dwell forever,
Dwell on each immortal wire.
3 From the sparkling turrets there
Oft I'll trace my pilgrim way,
Often bless thy guardian care,
Fire by night and cloud by day;
While my triumphs
my Leader's feet I lay.
1 SWEET is the scene when virtue dies!
When sinks a righteous 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 blessed the righteous when he dies!'
'Why mourn the Death of Friends?'
1 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,
As fast as time can move?
Nor would we wish the hours more slow,
To keep us from our love.
3 Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?
There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
And left a long perfume.
4 The graves of all the saints he blessed, And softened every bed;
Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying Head?
5 Thence he arose, ascended high,
And showed our feet the way:
Up to the Lord our souls 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.'
Friends die, but to live again.
1 FRIEND after friend departs;
Who hath not lost a friend?
There is no union here of hearts,
That finds not here an end.
Were this frail world our only rest,
Living or dying, none were blest.
2 Beyond the flight of time,
Beyond this vale of death,
There surely is some blessed clime,
Where life is not a breath,
Nor life's affections but a fire
Whose sparks fly upward to expire.
3 There is a world above,
Where parting is unknown,-
A whole eternity of love
And blessedness alone;
And faith beholds the dying here,
Translated to that happier sphere.
4 Thus, star by star declines
Till all are passed away,
As morning high and higher shines
To pure and perfect day.
Nor sink those stars in empty night—
They hide themselves in heaven's own light.
Submission, on the Death of Friends.
1 PEACE!-'tis the Lord Jehovah's hand
That blasts our joys in death,
Changes the visage once so dear,
And gathers back the breath.
2 'Tis he, the potentate supreme
Of all the worlds above,—
Whose steady counsels wisely rule,
Nor from their purpose move.
3 Our covenant God and Father he,
In Christ our bleeding Lord,
Whose grace can heal the bursting heart
With one reviving word.
4 Fair garlands of immortal bliss
He weaves for every brow:
And shall rebellious passions rise,
When he corrects us now?
5 Silent we own Jehovah's name,
We kiss the scourging hand;
And yield our comforts and our life
To thy supreme command.
Comfort, on the Loss of Children.
1 YE mourning ones, whose streaming tears
Flow o'er your children dead,—
Say not, in transports of despair,
That all your hopes are fled.
2 While, cleaving to that darling dust,
In fond distress ye lie,
Rise, and with joy and reverence view
A heavenly parent nigh.
3 Though, your young branches torn away,
Like withered trunks ye stand,
With fairer verdure shall ye bloom,
Touched by th' Almighty's hand.
4 'I'll give the mourner,' saith the Lord,
'In my own house a place;
No names of daughters and of sons
Could yield so high a grace.
5 Transient and vain is every hope
A rising race can give ;
In endless honor and delight
My children all shall live.'
6 We welcome, Lord, those rising tears
Through which thy face we see,
And bless those wounds, which through our hearts Prepare a way for thee.
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