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4 Can this be he who wont to stray

A pilgrim on the world's highway,
By power oppressed, and mocked by pride?

O God, is this the Crucified ?
5 Go, tyrants, to the rocks complain;

Go, seek the mountain's cleft in vain;
But faith, victorious o'er the tomb,
Shall sing for joy, “ The Lord is come.”


7 M.

Bishop HEBER.

The last Judgment.

1 IN the sun, and moon, and stars,

Signs and wonders there shall be ;
Earth shall quake with inward wars,

Nations with perplexity.
2 Soon shall ocean's hoary deep,

Tossed with stronger tempests, rise ;
Darker storms the mountain sweep,

Redder lightning rend the skies.
3 Evil thoughts shall shake the proud,

Racking doubt and restless fear;
And amid the thunder-cloud

Shall the Judge of men appear. 4 But though from that awful face

Heaven shall fade, and earth shall fly,
Fear not ye, his chosen race,

Your redemption draweth nigh.


P. M.

LUTHER. Judgment Hymn. 1 GREAT God, what do I see and hear ?

The end of things created !
The Judge of mankind doth appear

On clouds of glory seated;
The trumpet sounds, the graves restore
The dead which they contained before;

Prepare, my soul, to meet him.


L. M.

SIR W. Scott. The last Day. 1 THAT day of wrath, that dreadful day,

When heaven and earth shall pass away !
What power shall be the sinner's stay?

How shall he meet that dreadful day? 2 When, shrivelling like a parched scroll,

The flaming heavens together roll ;
When louder yet, and yet more dread,

Swells the high trump that wakes the dead ;3 0, on that day, that wrathful day,

When man to judgment wakes from clay,
Be thou the trembling sinner's stay,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away.

P. M.

Day of Judgment.
1 THE day of wrath, that dreadful day,

Shall the whole world in ashes lay,
As David and the Sibyls say.

2 The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound

Shall through the rending tombs rebound,

And wake the nations under ground. 3 Nature and death shall, with surprise,

Behold the pale offender rise,

And view the Judge with conscious eyes. 4 Then shall, with universal dread,

The sacred mystic book be read,

To try the living and the dead. 5 The Judge ascends his awful throne;

He makes each secret sin be known;

And all with shame confess their own. 6 Prostrate my contrite heart I rend;

My God, my Father, and my Friend,
Do not forsake me in iny end.



Hope of Heuren.
1 SOON shall this earthly frame, dissolved,

In death and ruins lie;
But better mansions wait the just,

Prepared above the sky.
2 A house eternal, built by God,

Shall lodge the holy mind,
When once those prison walls are broke

By which 'tis now confined.
3 We know that, when the soul, unclothed,

Shall from this body fly, 'Twill animate a purer frame

With life that cannot die.

4 Such are the hopes that cheer the just;

These hopes their God hath given; His Spirit is the earnest now,

And seals their souls for heaven. 5 What faith rejoices to believe,

We long and pant to see ;
We would be absent from the flesh,

And present, Lord, with thee.

C. M.

DODDRIDGE. God the everlasting Light of the Saints above. Is. Ix. 20. 1 YE golden lamps of heaven, farewell,

With all your feeble light ;
Farewell, thou ever-changing moon,

Pale empress of the night.
2 And thou, refulgent orb of day,

In brighter flames arrayed,
My soul, that springs beyond thy sphere,

No more demands thine aid.
3 Ye stars are but the shining dust

Of my divine abode,
The pavement of those heavenly courts,

Where I shall reign with God. 4 The Father of eternal light

Shall there his beams display;
Nor shall one moment's darkness mix

With that unvaried day.
5 No more the drops of piercing grief

Shall swell into mine eyes,
Nor the meridian sun decline

Amidst those brighter skies.

6 There all the millions of his saints

Shall in one song unite,
And each the bliss of all shall view

With infinite delight.

C. M.

Watts. Death and immediate Glory. 1 THERE is a house not made with hands,

Eternal and on high,
And here my spirit waiting stands,

Till God shall bid it fly.
2 Shortly this prison of my clay

Must be dissolved and fall; Then, O my soul, with joy obey

Thy heavenly Father's call. 3 'Tis he by his almighty grace

That forms thee fit for heaven, And, as an earnest of the place,

Has his own Spirit given.
4 We walk by faith of joys to come;

Faith lives upon his word;
But, while the body is our home,

We're absent from the Lord.

5 'Tis pleasant to believe thy grace,

But we had rather see;
We would be absent from the flesh,

And present, Lord, with thee.


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