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Life, Death, and Resurrection.
1 ETERNAL God! how frail is man!
Few are the hours, and short the span,
Between the cradle and the grave:
Who can prolong his vital breath?
Who from the bold demands of death
Hath skill to fly, or power to save?
2 But let no murmuring heart complain,
That, therefore, man is made in vain,
Nor the Creator's grace distrust;
For though his servants, day by day,
Go to their graves, and turn to clay,
A bright reward awaits the just.
Jesus hath made thy purpose known,
A new and better life hath shown,
And we the glorious tidings hear:
For ever blessed be the Lord,
That we can read his holy word,
And find a resurrection there.
642. Sleeping in Jesus.
1 ASLEEP in Jesus! blessed sleep!
From which none ever wakes to weep;
A calm and undisturbed repose,
Unbroken by the dread of foes.
2 Asleep in Jesus! peaceful rest,
Whose waking is supremely blest;
No fear, no woes, shall dim that hour
Which manifests the Saviour's power.
3 Asleep in Jesus! time nor space
Debars this precious hiding-place;
On Indian plains, or Lapland snows,
Believers find the same repose.
4 Asleep in Jesus! far from thee
Thy kindred and their graves may be;
But thine is still a blessed sleep,
From which none ever wakes to weep.
Blessedness of the Pious Dead.
1 O STAY thy tears; for they are blest,
Whose days are past, whose toil is done :
Here midnight care disturbs our rest;
Here sorrow dims the noonday sun.
2 How blest are they whose transient years
Pass like an evening meteor's flight!
Not dark with guilt, nor dim with tears;
Whose course is short, unclouded, bright.
3 O cheerless were our lengthened way;
But heaven's own light dispels the gloom,
Streams downward from eternal day,
And casts a glory round the tomb.
4 O stay thy tears; the blest above
Have hailed a spirit's heavenly birth,
And sung a song of joy and love;
Then why should anguish reign on earth?
Man frail, and God eternal. Ps. 90.
1 BEFORE the hills in order stood,
Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting thou art God,
To endless years the same.
2 A thousand ages, in thy sight,
Are like an evening gone;
Short as the watch that ends the night,
Before the rising sun.
3 Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.
4 Like flowery fields the nations stand,
Pleased with the morning light:
The flowers beneath the mower's hand
Lie withering ere 't is night.
Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.
Our Bodies frail, and God our Preserver.
LET others boast how strong they be,
Nor death nor danger fear;
But we 'll confess, O Lord, to thee,
What feeble things we are.
2 Fresh as the grass our bodies stand,
And flourish bright and gay;
A blasting wind sweeps o'er the land,
And fades the grass away.
3 Our life contains a thousand springs,
And dies, if one be gone;
Strange! that a harp of thousand strings
Should keep in tune so long.
4 But 't is our God supports our frame, The God who built us first; Salvation to the Almighty Name
That reared us from the dust.
5 While we have breath, or use our tongues,
Our Maker we 'll adore;
His spirit moves our heaving lungs,
Or they would breathe no more.
I would not live alway.
I WOULD not live alway: I ask not to stay
Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way:
I would not live alway: no,- welcome the tomb
Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom.
2 Who, who would live alway, away from his God Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode ! Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains,
And the noontide of glory eternally reigns;
3 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet,
Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet;
While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll,
And the smile of the Lord is the life of the soul.
The Christian's Death.
1 BEHOLD the beauteous western light;
It melts in deepening gloom:
So calmly Christians sink away,
Descending to the tomb.
2 The winds breathe low, the withering leaf
Scarce whispers from the tree;
So gently flows the parting breath,
When good men cease to be.
3 How beautiful on all the hills
The crimson light is shed!
'T is like the peace the Christian gives
To mourners round his bed.
4 How mildly on the wandering cloud The sunset beam is cast!
'Tis like the memory, left behind, When loved ones breathe their last.
5 And now, above the dews of night,
The yellow star appears:
So faith springs in the heart of those
Whose eyes are bathed in tears.
6 But soon the morning's happier light
Its glories shall restore,
And eyelids that are sealed in death
ope, to close no more.