2 When I stand before the throne,

Dress'd in beauty not my own,
When I see Thee as Thou art,
Love Thee with unsinning heart,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know-

Not till then-how much I owe.
3 When the praise of heaven I hear,
Loud as thunder to the ear,
Loud as many waters' noise,
Sweet as harp's melodious voice,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know--
Not till then-how much I owe.
4 Ev'n on earth, as through a glass

Darkly, let Thy glory pass;
Make forgiveness feel so sweet,
Make Thy Spirit's help so meet;
Ev’n on earth, Lord, make me know

Something of how much I owe.
5 Chosen, not for good in me,

Waken’d up from wrath to flee,
Hidden in the Saviour's side,
By the Spirit sanctified;
Teach me, Lord, on earth to show
By my love how much I owe. Amen.

Communion of the Sick.
402 “ The Lord our Righteousness.”
1 Jesus, Thou art my Righteousness,

For all my sins were Thine;
Thy death hath bought of God my peace,

Thy life hath made Him mine.

2 For ever here my rest shall be,

Close to Thy bleeding side;
This all my hope, and all my plea,

For me the Saviour died !
3 My dying Saviour and my God,

Fountain for guilt and sin,
Sprinkle me ever with Thy blood,

And cleanse and keep me clean ! 4 Wash me, and make me thus Thine own;

Wash me, and mine Thou art;
Wash me, but not my feet alone;

My hands, my head, my heart !
5 The atonement of Thy blood apply,

Till faith to sight improve;
Till hope in full fruition die,

And all my soul be love. Amen.

403 “Blessed are they which are called unto

the marriage-supper of the Lamb.” 1 Ar God's right hand, in countless numbers,

The just, made perfect, joyful stand; Freed from whate'er on earth encumbers,

They've gain'd the promised, heavenly land. Our souls, with sweet anticipation,

By faith these glorious realms descry; And from each kindred, tongue, and nation

We hear loud anthems fill the sky. 2 When, O when shall I have the favour

To see the approach of those blest days, When I shall welcome my dear Saviour

With solemn strains, with joyful lays ?

How blest will then be my condition,

When in my flesh I Christ shall see! Though happy in His love's fruition

Even here, with Him I long to be. 3 What heavenly joy and consolation

This hope affords unto my heart, That Christ, the God of my salvation,

Will me receive when I depart; Then in His presence I for ever

With the redeem'd shall sing His praise; O make me ready, blessed Saviour,

To leave this world and see Thy face. Amen.

The Burial of the Dead.

404 “We are more than conquerors through

Him that loved us."
1 GREAT Captain of salvation,

We bless Thy glorious Name,
Of death and hell the Victor,

With all their power and shame:
Weak, helpless, poor, and trembling,

As in ourselves we stand,
We triumph, more than conquerors,

Through Thine Almighty hand.
2 [Our brother's fight is over,

His earthly race is run;
'Twas by Thy grace and power,

The prize of life he won;
He now is sweetly sleeping,

His spirit rests with Thee,
And though Thy saints are weeping,

Their song is “Victory!”]

3 Soon Thou wilt come in glory,

With all Thy Church to shine,
Our bodies raised in honour

And beauty, Lord, like Thine:
Then, then, we'll raise still louder

The song which now we sing,
“O grave where is thy victory?

O death where is thy sting ?” 4 O Son of God, we thank Thee,

We bless Thy holy Name,
Thy love once made Thee willing

To bear our sin and shame;
And now Thy love is waiting

Thy Church, like Thee, to raise;
First-born of many brethren,

Thine, Thine be all the praise! Amen.

405 “Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe

in God, believe also in Me.” 1 Most holy Lord and God,

Holy, Almighty God,
Holy and most merciful Saviour,

Thou eternal God;
Grant that we may never
Lose the comforts from Thy death;

Have mercy, O Lord.

Most holy Lord and God,

Holy, Almighty God,
Holy and most merciful Saviour,

Thou eternal God;
Bless Thy congregation,
Through Thy sufferings, death, and blood;
Have mercy, O Lord. Amen.

BURIAL OF A CHILD. 406 “He shall gather the lambs with His arm.” 1 GENTLE Shepherd, Thou hast stillid

Now Thy little lamb's brief weeping:
Ah! how peaceful, pale, and mild,
In its narrow bed 'tis sleeping,

And no sigh of anguish sore

Heaves that little bosom more. 2 In this world of care and pain,

Lord, Thou would'st no longer leave it;
To the sunny, heavenly plain
Thou dost now with 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 prove,
Though Thou take what most we love.

Amen.

Thanksgiving after Sickness. 407 “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget

not all His benefits.”

PSALM CIII.
1 O BLESS the Lord, my soul,

His grace to thee proclaim,
And als that is within me join
To bless His holy Name.