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COMFORT IN AFFLICTION.

S. C. HANCOCK.

1. Though we sleep, 'tis not for - ev - er, There will be a glorious dawn! 2. When we see a pre-cious blos-som, That we tend-ed with such care, 3. Though we sleep, 'tis not for - ev - er In the lone and si - lent grave;

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From the val - ley and the mountain, Countless throngs shall rise a - gain!
Feel - ing all our hopes have perished, With the flower we cherished so.
In his own good time he'll call us From our rest to home, sweet home.

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1 When downward to the darksome tomb|3 Thus shall they guard my sleeping dust, I thoughtful turn my eyes,

And, as the Saviour rose, Frail nature trembles at the gloom, The grave again shall yield her trust, And anxious fears arise.

And end my deep repose. 2 Why shrinks my soul ?-- in death's em- 4 Then let my faith each fear dispel,

Once Jesus captive slept ; [brace And gild with light the grave; And angels, hovering o'er the place, To him my loftiest praises swell, His lowly pillow kept.

Who died, from death to save.

R. PALMER.

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A. STEELL.

812
1 There is an hour when I must part 1 Life is a span, a fleeting hour;
With all I hold most dear;

How soon the vapor flies!
And life, with its best hopes, will then Man is a tender, transient flower,
As nothingness appear.

That e’en in blooming dies. 2 There is an hour when I. must sink

2 The once loved form, now cold and dead, Beneath the stroke of death ;

Each mournful thought employs ; And yield to him who gave it first, And nature weeps, her comforts fled, My struggling vital breath.

And withered all her joys.' 3 There is an hour when I must stand

3 Hope looks beyond the bounds of time, In resurrection state ;

When what we now deplore And all my sins before me come,

Shall rise in full, immortal prime, However small or great.

And bloom to fade no more. 4 O Saviour, then, in all my need Be near, be near to me :

813 And let my soul, by steadfast faith, 1 O for the eye of faith divine, Find peace and life in thee.

To pierce beyond the grave;

To see that Friend, and call him mine, 811

Whose arm is strong to save! 1 Great God, I own my sentence just, And nature must decay ;

2 Behold my glorious Leader nigh! I yield my body to the dust,

My Lord, my Saviour lives; To dwell with fellow-clay.

Before him death's pale terrors fly,

And my faint heart revives. 2 Yet faith may triumph o'er the grave, And trample on the tombs ;

3 Lord, if in death I offered be, My great Redeemer ever lives,

Watch thou my sleeping dust ; My God, my Saviour, comes.

My spirit I'll commit to thee;

Accept the sacred trust 3 The mighty conqueror shall appear, High on a royal seat;

4 Till thou shalt in thy glory come, And death, the last of all our foes,

When all thy saints shall rise,
Lie vanquished at his feet.

And, clothed in full immortal bloom,
I. WATTS.

Attend thee to the skies.

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1 When the last trumpet's awful voice 2 Yet soon reviving flowers and trees This rending earth shall shake ;

Anew shall deck the plain ; When opening graves shall yield their The woods shall hear the voice of spring

II: Then dust to life shall wake. :i [charge, 11: And flourish green again. : || 2 Those bodies that corrupted fell 3 So, to the dreary grave consigned, Shall incorrupt arise,

Man sleeps in death's dark gloom, And mortal forms shall spring to life Until the final morning wakes ll: Immortal in the skies. : ||

ll: The slumbers of the tomb. :// 3 Behold, what heavenly prophets sung, Is now at last fulfilled ;

816 And death yields up his ancient reign, 1 Why should we tremble to convey

11: And, vanquished, quits the field. :|| The Christian to the tomb? 4 Let faith exalt her joyful voice,

There once the flesh of Jesus lay, And now in triumph sing :

11: And left a long perfume. :|| O grave, where is thy victory?

2 Thence he arose, ascending high, 11: And where, O death, thy sting? :// And showed our feet the way : 815

Up to the Lord we all shall fly

11: At the great rising day. : || 1 All nature dies, and lives again :

The flowers, that paint the field ; 3 Then let the last loud trumpet sound, The trees, that crown the mountain's And bid our kindred rise : brow

Awake, ye nations under ground; ll: And boughs and blossoms yield. :|| 11: Ye saints, ascend the skies. ://

W. CAMERON.

I. WATTS.

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A. STEELE.

1 Death's not the gate of paradise,” 2 While pity prompts the rising sigh, Nor “opening key” to heaven ;

O may this truth, impressed Nor a bright "angel from the skies,” With awful power, “I, too, must die,” Or boon in mercy given.

Sink deep in every breast. 2 No! 'tis a dark and cruel foe,

3 Then let us fly - to Jesus fly! Which has invaded earth ;

Whose powerful arm can save ; And to distress, and fear, and woe Then shall our hopes ascend on high, Intense hath given birth.

And triumph o'er the grave. 3 But death, and he who hath its power,

Shall be at last destroyed,
And saints no more, O joyful hour!

820 Will be by them annoyed.

1 The winter past, reviving flowers

Anew shall paint the plain ; 818

The woods shall hear the voice of spring, 1 Awake and sing! awake and sing,

And flourish green again. Ye dwellers in the dust!

2 Shall man depart this earthly scene, Now on you dawns th’eternal Spring,

Ah, never to return! Awake and sing, ye just!

No second spring of life revive 2 In weakness sown, ʼmid sighs and tears ; The ashes of the urn? In glory now they rise,

3 Shall life revisit dying worms, To meet their Lord when he appears,

And spread the insect's wing? Descending from the skies.

And, o shall man awake no more, 3 Death's chilling winter now is past,

The Saviour's name to sing ?
All hail, life's joyous Spring !
The dew of God descends at last;

4 Cease, all ye vain desponding fears !

When Christ from darkness sprang, Awake, awake and sing!

Death, the last foe, was captive led, 819

And heaven with praises rang. 1 When blooming youth is snatched away 5 The trumpshall sound; thegates of death By death's resistless hand,

Shall make his children way ; Our arts the mournful tribute pay

From the cold tomb the slumb’rers spring, Which pity must demand.

And shine in endless day.

H. L. HASTINGS,

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