Nor would we wish the hours more slow
To keep us from our love.
3 Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?
There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
His light dispell'd its gloom.
4 The graves of all His saints He bless'd,
And soften'd ev'ry bed;
Where should the dying members rest,
But with the dying Head?
5 Thence He arose, ascending high,
And show'd our feet the way;
Up to the Lord our flesh 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.
HY should we weep for those who die,
WHY
Those blessed ones who weep no more?
Jesus hath call'd them to the sky,
And gladly have they gone before.
2 A few short days they linger'd here,
Th' appointed span of trial knew;
Dropp'd early dropp'd the parting tear,
And early now have parted too.
3 Up, up, in swift ascent, they rise,
Star after star of living light!
Why should we mourn that midnight skies Become with added glories bright?
4 Far in the distant heavens they shine,
But still with borrow'd lustre glow;
Saviour, the beams are only Thine,
Of saints above, or saints below.
5 For them no bitter tear we shed-
Their night of pain and grief is o'er-
But weep our lonely path to tread,
And see the forms we loved, no more.
SLEEP in Jesus! blesséd sleep,
From which none ever wakes to weep;
A calm and undisturb'd repose,
Unbroken by the last of foes.
Asleep in Jesus! oh, how sweet,
To be for such a slumber meet;
With holy confidence to sing
That Death has lost his venom'd sting!
3 Asleep in Jesus! peaceful rest,
Whose waking is supremely blest:
No fear, no woe, shall dim that hour
That manifests the Saviour's power.
4 Asleep in Jesus! oh, for me
May such a blissful refuge be:
Securely shall my ashes lie,
And wait the summons from on high.
Asleep in Jesus! time nor space
Affects this precious hiding-place:
On Indian plains or Lapland snows
Believers find the same repose.
6 Asleep in Jesus! far from thee
Thy kindred and their graves may be:
But thine is still a blesséd sleep,
From which none ever wakes to weep.
7s & 88
ENTLE Shepherd, Thou hast still'd
Now Thy little lamb's long weeping;
Ah, how peaceful, pale, and mild,
In its narrow bed 't is sleeping!
And no sigh of anguish sore
Heaves that little bosom more.
2 In this world of care and pain,
Lord, Thou wouldst no longer leave it:
To the sunny, heavenly plain
Dost Thou now in joy receive it.
Clothed in robes of spotless white,
Now it dwells with Thee in light.
3 Ah, Lord Jesus, grant that we
Where it lives may soon be living,
And the lovely pastures see
That its heavenly food are giving.
Then the gain of death we'll prove,
Though Thou take what most we love.
ARK! a voice divides the sky;
HARK! a dividest dead,
In the Lord who sweetly die ;
They from all their toils are freed.
2 Them the Spirit hath declared
Blest, unutterably blest;
Jesus is their great reward,
Jesus is their endless rest.
3 Follow'd by their works, they go Where their Head had gone before; Reconciled by grace below,
Grace hath open'd mercy's door.
4 Justified through faith alone,
Here they knew their sins forgiven; Here they laid their burden down, Hallow'd and made meet for heaven. 5 When from flesh the spirit freed Hastens homeward to return, "A man is dead!" Angels sing, "A child is born!"
SHEPHERD of the sheep,
High-Priest of things to come,
Who didst in grace Thy servant keep,
And take him sweetly home:
2 Accept our song of praise
For all his holy care,
His zeal unquench'd, through length of days,
The trials that he bare.
3 On all our Pastors pour
The Spirit of Thy grace;
That as he won the palm of yore,
So may they run their race:
4 That, when this life is done,
They may with him adore'
The ever-blesséd Three in One
In bliss for evermore.
WHAT sinners value, I resign:
Lord! 't is enough that Thou art mine!
I shall behold Thy blissful face,
And stand complete in righteousness.
2 This life's a dream, an empty show;
But the bright world to which I go
Hath joys substantial and sincere;
When shall I wake and find me there?
3 O glorious hour! O blest abode!
I shall be near and like my God;
And flesh and sin no more control
The sacred pleasures of the soul.
4 My flesh shall slumber in the ground
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound;
Then burst the chains with sweet surprise,
And in my Saviour's image rise.
HROUGH sorrow's night and danger's path,
Amid the deep'ning gloom,
We soldiers of an injured King
Are marching to the tomb.
2 There, when the turmoil is no more,
And all our powers decay,
Our cold remains in solitude
Shall sleep the years away.
3 Our labors done, securely laid
In this our last retreat,
Unheeded o'er our silent dust
The storms of life shall beat.
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