475 (703).

HEE we adore, Eternal Name!

Tand humbly own to Thee
THE

How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying worms are we!

C. M.

2 Our wasting lives are short'ning still,
As months and days increase;
And ev'ry beating pulse we tell
Leaves but the number less.

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

4 Infinite joy, or endless woe
Attends on every breath;

And yet, how unconcern'd we go
Upon the brink of death!

5 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense,
To walk this dangerous road!
And if our souls are hurried hence,
May they be found with God.

476 (709).

ND must this body die?

This mortal frame decay?

S. M.

And must these active limbs of mine
Lie mould'ring in the clay?

2 God, my Redeemer, lives,

And often, from the skies,

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

3 Array'd in glorious grace

Shall these vile bodies shine,
And ev'ry shape, and ev'ry 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 sounds we raise
With our immortal tongues.

477 (708).

L M.

HY should we start and fear to die?

W What tim'rous worms we mortals are!

Death is the gate of endless joy,

And yet we dread to enter there.

2 The pains, the groans, and dying strife,
Fright our approaching souls away:
Still we shrink back again to life,
Fond of our prison and our clay.

3 Oh, if my Lord would come and meet,
My soul should stretch her wings in haste,
Fly fearless through death's iron gate,
Nor feel the terrors as she pass'd.

4 Jesus can make a dying bed

Fee. soft as downy pillows are, While on his breast I lean my head,

And breathe my life out sweetly there.

478 (726).

C. M.

BENEATH our feet and o'er our head
Is equal warning given;

Beneath us lie the countless dead,
And far above is heaven.

2 Death rides on ev'ry passing breeze,
And lurks in ev'ry flower;

Each season has its own disease,
Its peril ev'ry hour.

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

4 Turn, Christian, turn: thy soul appiy
To truths which hourly tell

That they who underneath thee lie
Shall live in heaven -
- or hell.

479 (298).

W

C. M.

HEN, rising from the bed of death,
O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,

I see my Maker face to face,

Oh, how shall I appear!

2 If yet, while pardon may be found,
And mercy may be sought,

My heart with inward horror shrinks,
And trembles at the thought:-

3 When Thou, O Lord! shalt stand disclosed In majesty severe,

And sit in judgment on my soul,

Oh, how shall I appear!

4 But there's forgiveness, Lord, with Thee:
Thy nature is benign:
Thy pard'ning mercy I implore,
For mercy, Lord, is Thine.

5 Oh, let Thy boundless mercy shine
On my benighted soul!

Correct my passions, mend my heart,
And all my fears control.

6 And may I taste Thy richer grace,
In that decisive hour,

When Christ to judgment shall descend
And time shall be no more.

480 (698).

H, where shall rest be found,

Rest for the weary soul?

S.M.

'T were vain the ocean's depths to sound, Or pierce to either pole.

2 The world can never give

The bliss for which we sigh:
'Tis not the whole of life to live,
Nor all of death to die.

3 Beyond this vale of tears
There is a life above,

Unmeasured by the flight of years-
And all that life is love.

4 There is a death whose pang
Outlasts the fleeting breath:
Oh, what eternal horrors hang
Around the second death!

5 Lord God of truth and grace!

Teach us that death to shun:
Lest we be driven from Thy face,
And evermore undone.

6 Here would we end our quest;
Alone are found in Thee

The life of perfect love, the rest
Of immortality.

PEACE OR TRIUMPH IN DEATH.

481 (986).

HOW

L. M.

OW blest the righteous when he dies! When sinks a weary soul to rest! How mildly beam the closing eyes!

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 A holy quiet reigns around,

A calm which life nor death destroys;
And nought disturbs that peace profound
Which his unfetter'd soul enjoys.

4 Farewell, conflicting hopes and fears,
Where lights and shades alternate dwel.;
How bright th' unchanging morn appears!
Farewell, inconstant world, farewell i

5 Life's labor done, as sinks the clay,
Light from its load the spirit flies,
While heaven and earth combine to say,
"How blest the righteous when he dies!'