4 Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane,

The vital spark shall lie;

For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise,
To seek its kindred sky.

501

C. M.

Death and Eternity.

WATTS.

1 MY thoughts, that often mount the skies,
Go search the world beneath,
Where Nature all in ruin lies,

And owns her sovereign, Death.

2 The tyrant! how he triumphs here!
His trophies spread around!
And heaps of dust and bones appear
Through all the hollow ground.

3 But where the souls, those deathless things, That left their dying clay?

My thoughts, now stretch out all your wings, And trace eternity.

4 Some hearty friend shall drop his tear

On our dry bones, and say,

"These once were strong as mine appear,
And mine must be as they."

5 Thus shall our mouldering members teach
What now our senses learn;
For dust and ashes loudest preach
Man's infinite concern.

396

502

11s M.

EPISCOPAL COL.

"I would not live alway." Job vii. 16.

1 I WOULD not live alway; I ask not to stay Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way; I would not live alway, thus fettered by sin, Temptation without, and corruption within.

2 I would not live alway; no welcome the tomb;

Since Jesus has lain there, I dread not its gloom; There sweet be my rest, till he bid me arise, To hail him in triumph descending the skies. 3 Who, who would live al way, away from his God, Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode ? Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright

plains,

And the noontide of glory eternally reigns; 4 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, Their Savior and brethren transported to greet; While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul.

503

L. M.

LOGAN.

The Christian summoned to depart.
1 THE hour of my departure's come;
I hear the voice that calls me home;
At last, O Lord, let trouble cease,
And let thy servant die in peace.

2 The race appointed I have run;
The combat's o'er, the prize is won;
And now my witness is on high,
And now my record's in the sky.

3 I leave the world without a tear,
Save for the friends I held so dear;
To heal their sorrows, Lord, descend,
And to the friendless prove a Friend.
4 I come, I come; at thy command,
I give my spirit to thy hand;
Stretch forth thine everlasting arms,
And shield me in the last alarms.

5 The hour of my departure's come;
I hear the voice that calls me home;
Now, O my God, let trouble cease,
Now let thy servant die in peace.

504

7s M.

POPE.

The dying Christian to his Soul.

1 VITAL spark of heavenly flame,
Quit, O quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying
O the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife.
And let me languish into life.

2 Hark! they whisper; angels say,
"Sister spirit, come away."
What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
3 The world recedes; it disappears;
Heaven opens on my eyes; my ears

With sounds seraphic ring;

Lend, lend your wings; I mount, I fly;
O grave, where is thy victory?

O death, where is thy sting?

505

C. M.

DODDRIDGE.

God the Soul's Support in Extremity.

1 MY soul, the awful hour will come; Apace it hasteth on,

To bear this body to the tomb,

And thee to scenes unknown.

2 Whence, in that hour, shall I receive A cordial for my pain,

When, if earth's monarchs were my friends,
Those friends would weep in vain ?

3 Great King of nature and of grace,
To thee my spirit flies,
And opens all its deep distress
Before thy pitying eyes.

4 All its desires to thee are known,
And every secret fear,

The meaning of each broken groan
Well noticed by thine ear.

5 0, fix me, by that mighty power
Which to such love belongs,

Where darkness veils the eye no more,
And groans are changed to songs.

399

506

C. M.

Enoch's Piety and Translation.

DODDRIDGE.

1 ETERNAL God, our wondering souls
Admire thy matchless grace-

That thou wilt walk, that thou wilt dwell
With Adam's worthless race.

2 O, lead me to that happy path
Where I my God may meet;
Though hosts of foes begird it round,
Though briers wound my feet.

3 Nor shall I through eternal days
A restless pilgrim roam;

Thy hand, that now directs my course,
Shall soon convey me home.

4 I ask not Enoch's rapturous flight
To realms of heavenly day,
Nor seek Elijah's fiery steeds
To bear this flesh away.

5 Joyful my spirit will consent
To drop its mortal load,
And hail the sharpest pangs of death
That break its way to God.

507

C. M.

WATTS.

Moses dying in the Embraces of God.

1 DEATH cannot make our souls afraid,
If God be with us there;

We may walk through her darkest shade,
And never yield to fear.