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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.”

517

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.

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518
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.

519

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.

520
P. M.

Roscommon.
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.

521

C. M. Scorch PARAPHRASES.

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.

522
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.

523
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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