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L. P. M.
Between the cradle and the grave:
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.
And we the glorious tidings hear:
And find a resurrection there.
Sleeping in Jesus.
1 Asleep in Jesus! blessed sleep!
From which none ever wakes to weep;
Whose waking is supremely blest;
3 Asleep in Jesus! time nor space Debars this precious hiding-place; On Indian plains, or Lapland snows,
Believers find the same repose.
Thy kindred and their graves may be ;
Annota lear 19,633
Blessedness of the Pious Dead.
1 O stay thy tears; for they are blest,
Whose days are past, whose toil is done:
Here sorrow dims the noonday sun.
Pass like an evening meteor's flight!
Whose course is short, unclouded, bright. 3 O cheerless were our lengthened way;
But heaven's own light dispels the gloom,
And casts a glory round the tomb.
Have hailed a spirit's heavenly birth,
C. M. 644.
WATTS. Man frail, and God eternal. i BEFORE the hills in order stood,
Or earth received her frame, From everlasting thou art God, To endless years
Are like an evening gone;
Before the rising sun.
Bears all its sons away; They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.
Pleased with the morning light:
Lie withering ere 't is night.
Our hope for years to come,
And our eternal home.
Our Bodies frail, and God our Preserver.
Nor death nor danger fear;
What feeble things we are.
2 Fresh as the grass our bodies stand,
And flourish bright and gay;
And fades the grass away.
And dies, if one be gone;
Should keep in tune so long.
The God who built us first;
That reared us from the dust.
Our Maker we'll adore;
Or they would breathe no more.
Ils. M. 646.
EPISCOPAL COL. 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. 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 ; a 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 :
Whose eyes are bathed in tears.
6 But soon the morning's happier light
Its glories shall restore,
to close no more.