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Her wishes she fully has gain'd-
She's now where she longed to be.
Then let us forbear to complain,

That she has now gone from our sight;
We soon shall behold her again,
With new and redoubled delight.


Death of a young person.


1 When blooming youth is snatch'd away
By death's resistless hand,

Our hearts the mournful tribute pay,
Which pity must demand.

2 While pity prompts the rising sigh,
Oh, may this truth, imprest
With awful pow'r-"I too must die”-
Sink deep in ev'ry breast.

3 The voice of this alarming scene May ev'ry heart obey;

Nor be the heav'nly warning vain, Which calls to watch and pray. 4 Oh, let us fly, to Jesus fly,

Whose pow'rful arm can save; Then shall our hopes ascend on high, And triumph o'er the grave.


145 Death and Burial of Christians.

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, To heav'n's desired abode?

Why should we wish the hours more slow, Which keeps us from our God?

3 Why should we tremble to convey Their bodies to the tomb?

'Twas there the Saviour's body lay, And left a long perfume.

4 The graves of all his saints he blest, And soften'd every bed:

Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying Head?

5 Thence he arose, ascending high,
And show'd our feet the way:
Up to the Lord his saints 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.


The peaceful Death of the Righteous.


1 SWEET is the scene when Christians die, When holy souls retire to rest: How mildly beams the closing eye!

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 Triumphant smiles the victor's brow,
Fann'd by some guardian angel's wing:
O grave! where is thy victory now,
And where, O death, where is thy sting!



IO FOR the death of those

Who slumber in the Lord!
O be like theirs my last repose,
Like theirs my last reward.

2 Their bodies, in the ground,
In silent hope may lie,
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound
Shall call them to the sky.

3 Their ransomed spirits soar
On wings of faith and love,
To meet the Saviour they adore,
And reign with him above.
4 With us their names shall live
Through long succeeding years,

Embalmed with all our hearts can give,
Our praises and our tears.
5 O for the death of those
Who slumber in the Lord!
O be like theirs my last repose,
Like theirs my last reward.



Time short and misspent.


1 HOW short and hasty is our life! How vast our soul's affairs!

Yet senseless mortals vainly strive
To lavish out their years.

2 Our days run thoughtlessly along, Without a moment's stay;

Just like a story, or a song,
We pass our lives away.

3 God from on high invites us home,
But we march heedless on,
And, ever hastening to the tomb,
Stoop downward as we run.

4 How we deserve the deepest hell,
That slight the joys above!

What chains of vengeance should we feel,
That break such cords of love!

5 Draw us, O God, with sov'reign grace,
And lift our thoughts on high,
That we may end this mortal race,
And see salvation nigh.



1 THE time is short!-sinners, beware,
Nor trifle time away:

The word of great salvation hear,
While yet 'tis called to-day.

2 The time is short!-O sinners, now, To Christ the Lord submit;

To mercy's golden sceptre bow,
And fall at Jesus' feet.

3 The time is short!-ye saints, rejoiceThe Lord will quickly come:

Soon shall you hear the Saviour's voice, To call you to your home.

4 The time is short?-it swiftly fliesThe hour is just at hand,

When we shall mount above the skies, And reach the wished-for land.

5 The time is short!-the moment near,
When we shall dwell above;
And be forever happy there,
With Jesus, whom we love.


150 Time the Period to prepare for Eternity.

1 THEE we adore, Eternal Name!
And humbly own to thee
How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying worms are we!

2 The year rolls round, and steals away The breath that first it gave; Whate'er we do-where'er we be, We 're travelling to the grave.

3 Great God! on what a slender thread
Hang everlasting things!
Th' eternal state of all the dead
Upon life's feeble strings!

4 Eternal joy-or endless wo
Attends on every breath!
And yet how unconcern'd we go
Upon the brink of death!

5 Awake, O Lord, our drowsy sense,
To walk this dang'rous road;
And if our souls are hurried hence,
May they be found with God.



1 LIFE is the time to serve the Lord, The time t'insure the great reward;

And while the lamp holds out to burn, The vilest sinner may return. ? Life is the hour that God has given T'escape from hell, and fly to heaven; The day of grace-and mortals may Secure the blessings of the day. 3 Then, what my thoughts design to do, My hands, with all your might pursue; Since no device, nor work is found, Nor faith, nor hope, beneath the ground. 4 There are no acts of pardon pass'd

In the cold grave to which we haste;
But darkness, death, and long despair
Reign in eternal silence there.



1 TO-MORROW, Lord, is thine,
Lodg'd in thy sov'reign hand;
And if its sun arise and shine,
It shines by thy command.
2 The present moment flies,

And bears our life away;
O make thy servants truly wise,
That they may live to-day.
3 Since on this fleeting hour
Eternity is hung,

Awake, by thine almighty pow'r,
The aged and the young.

4 One thing demands our care;
O! be that still pursu❜d!
Lest, slighted once, the season fair
Should never be renew'd.

5 To Jesus may we fly,

Swift as the morning light,
Lest life's young, golden beams should die
In sudden endless night.



1 SHINE on our souls, eternal God, With rays of mercy shine:

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