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5 Nor him shall death itself alarm;

On heaven his soul relies;
With joy he views his Maker's love,

And with composure dies.

287. C. M. The Christian's Triumph over Death. 1 Cor. xv. 55. 1 O ror an overcoming faith

To cheer my dying hour,
To triumph o'er the monster, death,

And all his frightful power.
2 Joyful, with all the strength I have,

My quivering lips would sing,
Where is thy boasted victory, grave !

O death! where is thy sting ?
3 Pardon and life-how dear each word !

God, life and pardon sends,
And by our dying, rising Lord,

Ensures to all his friends.
4 All glory be to God on high,

And endless thanks be paid,
Who makes us conquerors, though we die,

Through Christ, our living Head.


C. M. God, our support in the Hour of Death. Ps. xxxviii.

9, 10.
1 My soul ! the awful hour will come,

A pace it hastens on,
To bear this body to the tomb,

And thee to scenes unknown.
2 My heart, long labouring with its cares,

Shall pant and sink away ;

And you, mine eye-lids, soon shall close

On the last glimmering ray.
3 Whence in that hour shall I derive

A cordial for my pain,
When, if earth's princes were my friends,

Those friends would weep in vain ? 4 Great King of nature and of grace !

To thee my spirit flies,
And opens all its deep distress

Before thy pitying eyes.
5 All its desires to thee are known,

And every secret fear;
The meaning of each broken groan

Is noticed by thine ear.
6 O fix me by that mighty power

Which to such love belongs,
Where darkness veils the eyes no more,

And sighs are changed to songs.

289. S. M. Triumph over Death, in Hope of the Resurrection. 1 AND must this body die ?

This curious frame decay ?
And must these active limbs of mine

Lie mouldering in the clay?
2 Corruption, earth, and worms,

Shall but refine this flesh,
Till my triumphant spirit comes,

To put it on afresh.
3 God, my redeemer, lives,

And ever from the skies,
Looks down and watches all my dust,

Till he shall bid it rise.

Arrayed in glorious grace,

Shall these vile bodies shine,
And every form, and every face,

Look heavenly and divine. 5 These lively hopes we owe

To Jesus' dying love ;
We would adore his grace below,

And sing his power above. 6 O Lord, accept the praise

Of these our humble songs,
Till we a nobler strain shall raise

From our immortal tongues.

290. C. M. God, the everlasting Light of good Men. Isa. Is. 2). 1 YE golden lamps of heaven! farewell,

With all your feeble light : Farewell, thou ever-changing moon,

Pale empress of the night! 2 And thou, refulgent orb of day!

In brighter flames arrayed, My soul, which springs beyond thy sphere,

No more demands thine aid.
3 Ye stars are but the shining dust

Of my divine abode,
The pavement of those heavenly courts,

Where I shall reign with God. 4 The Father of eternal light

Shall there his beams display ;
Nor shall one moment's darkness mix

With that unvaried day.
5 No more the drops of piercing grief

Shall swell into mine eyes ;

Nor the meridian sun decline,

Amid those brighter skies.
6 There all the millions of his saints

Shall in one song unite ;
And each the bliss of all shall share

With infinite delight.

291. C. M. The earthly and heavenly Tabernacle. 2 Cor. v. 1-8. 1 THERE is a house not made with hands,

Eternal and on high ;
And here my spirit trembling waits,

Till God shall bid it fly.
2 Shortly this prison of my clay

Must be dissolved and fall;
Then, O my soul! with joy embrace

Th’ almighty Father's call.
3 The glorious gospel of his grace

Reveals this heaven to come ;
While beams of glory, in his word,

Allure and guide us home.
4 Pure are the joys reserved above,

And all the region peace ;
No wanton lip or envious eye

Can see or taste that bliss.
5 Such are the hopes that cheer the just :

These hopes their God hath given ;
His spirit is the earnest now,

And seals their souls for heaven. 6 What faith rejoices to believe,

Be ours the bliss to see ;
We would be absent from the flesh,

And present, Lord, with thee.


C. M.

Prospect of Heaven. 1 TAOSE bappy realms of joy and peace,

Fain would my heart explore,
Where grief and pain for ever cease,

And I shall sin no more. 2 No darkness there shall cloud the skies,

No languor seize the frame ;
But ever-active vigour rise

To feed the vital flame.
3 But ah ! a dreary vale between

Extends its awful gloom ;
Fear spreads, to hide the distant scene,

The horrors of the tomb. 4 O for the eye of faith divine

To pierce beyond the grave!
To see that friend, and call him mine,

Whose arm is strong to save !
5 Here fix, my soul ! for life is here ;

Light breaks amid the gloom ;
Trust in thy Father's love, nor fear
The horrors of the tomb.

293. 61. C. M.

The dying Saint. 1 When life's tempestuous storms are o'er, How calm he meets the friendly shore,

Who lived averse from sin ! Such peace on virtue's paths attends, That, where the sinner's pleasure ends,

'The christian's joys begin. 2 See smiling patience smooth his brow; See bending angels downward bow,

To cheer his way on high !

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