2 As the wingéd arrow flies
Speedily the mark to find;

As the lightning from the skies
Darts, and leaves no trace behind;
Swiftly thus our fleeting days

Bear us down life's rapid stream:
Upward, Lord, our spirits raise,
All below is but a dream.

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 young and old;

Fill us with a Saviour's love; And when life's short tale is told, May we dwell with Thee above.

1262

Rev. John Newton. (1725-1807.) 1779.

The Close of the Year.

I THOU who roll'st the year around,

Yet to be revived at last

At the solemn judgment-day.

3 All our follies, Lord, forgive;

Cleanse each heart and make us Thine; Let Thy grace within us live,

As our future suns decline;

Then, when life's last eve shall come,
Happy spirits, let us fly

To our everlasting home,

To our Father's house on high.
Rev. Ray Palmer. (1808-) 1832.

In the pathless wilderness
Be our true and living way.

Rich Thy gifts to us abound,

Warm our thanks shall rise to Thee:
Kindly to our worship bow,

While our grateful praises swell,
That, sustained by Thee, we now
Bid the parting year farewell.
2 All its numbered days are sped,
All its busy scenes are o'er,
All its joys for ever fled,

All its sorrows felt no more:
Mingled with th' eternal past,
Its remembrance shall decay;

In the coming year shall tread?
With Thy rod and staff, O God,
Comfort Thou his dying bed.
4 Keep us faithful, keep us pure,
Keep us evermore Thine own;
Help Thy servants to endure,

Fit us for the promised crown. 5 So within Thy palace gate

We shall praise, on golden strings,
Thee, the only Potentate,

Lord of lords, and King of kings.

Rev. Henry Downton. (1818-) 1839. ab.

D. S.

to a world like this.

2 A few more storms shall beat On this wild, rocky shore;

And we shall be where tempests cease, And surges swell no more. Cho.

3 A few more struggles here,

A few more partings o'er,

A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more. Cho.

4 'Tis but a little while

And He shall come again,

Who died that we might live, who lives That we with Him may reign. Cho. Rev. Horatius Bonar. (1808-) 1857. ab.

I MAKE haste, O man, to live,

For thou so soon must die; Time hurries past thee like the breeze, How swift its moments fly.

2 Make haste, O man, to do
Whatever must be done;

Thou hast no time to lose in cloth,
Thy day will soon be gone.

3 Up then with speed, and work;
Fling ease and self away;
This is no time for thee to sleep,
Up, watch, and work and pray.

4 Make haste, O man, to live,
Thy time is almost o'er;

O sleep not, dream not, but arise,
The Judge is at the door.

Rev. Horatius Bonar. 1857. ab

ST. BRIDE. S. M.

Samuel Howard. (1720-1782.) 1762.

1. LORD, let

I

may timely

How frail my best es

tate.

1269

The Brevity and Vanity of Life.
Ps. xxxix.

2 My life is but a span,

Mine age is nought with Thee; What is the highest boast of man But dust and vanity?

3 Dumb at Thy feet I lie,

For Thou hast brought me low; Remove Thy judgments, lest I die; I faint beneath Thy blow.

4 At Thy rebuke, the bloom

Of man's vain beauty flies;

And grief shall, like a moth, consume All that delights our eyes.

5 Have pity on my fears;

Hearken to my request;
Turn not in silence from my tears,

But give the mourner rest.

6 O spare me yet, I pray;

Awhile iny strength restore,

Ere I am summoned hence away,
And seen on earth no more.

James Montgomery. (1771-1854.) 1821. ab. and alt.

1271

Rev. Philip Doddridge 1755. ab. and alt

Triumph over Death.

I AND must this body die,

This mortal frame decay?

And must these active limbs of mine
Lie mouldering in the clay?

2 God, my Redeemer, lives,
And ever from the skies

Looks down and watches all my dust,
Till He shall bid it rise.

3 Arrayed in glorious grace,
Shall these vile bodies shine,
And every shape and every face
Look heavenly and divine.

4 These lively hopes we owe
To Jesus' dying love;

We would adore His grace below,
And sing His power above.

5 Dear Lord, accept the praise

Of these our humble songs,
Till tunes of nobler sound we raise
With our immortal tongues.

Rev. Isaac Watts. (1674-1748.) 1709. ab. and alt.

2 Death rides on every passing breeze,
And lurks in every flower;
Each season has its own disease,

Its peril every hour.

3 Our eyes have seen the rosy light
Of youth's soft cheek decay;
And fate descend in sudden night
On manhood's middle day.

4 Our eyes have seen the steps of age
Halt feebly to the tomb;

And yet shall earth our hearts engage,
And dreams of days to come?

5 Turn, mortal, turn, thy danger know;
Where'er thy foot can tread,
The earth rings hollow from below,
And warns thee of her dead.

6 Turn, Christian, turn, thy soul apply
To truths divinely given;

The bones that underneath thee lie,
Shall live for hell or heaven.

Bp. Reginald Heber. (1783-1826.) 1812. ab. and sl. alt.

13 Our labors done, securely laid In this our last retreat, Unheeded, o'er our silent dust

The storms of life shall beat.

4 Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane,
The vital spark shall lie;

For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise
To seek its kindred sky.

5 These ashes too, this little dust,
Our Father's care shall keep,
Till the last angel rise and break
The long and dreary sleep.

6 Then love's soft dew o'er every eye
Shall shed its mildest rays,
And the long-silent dust shall burst
With shouts of endless praise.