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3 It is not death to bear

The wrench that sets us free

From dungeon chain,-to breathe the air
Of boundless liberty.

4 It is not death to fling
Aside this sinful dust,

And rise, on strong exulting wing,

To live among the just.

5 Jesus, thou Prince of life!
Thy chosen cannot die;

Like thee, they conquer in the strife,
To reign with thee on high.

Job 14:14.

A FEW more years shall roll,

A few more seasons come;

And we shall be with those that rest,
Asleep within the tomb ;—

2 A few more storms shall beat
On this wild rocky shore;

And we shall be where tempests cease,
And surges swell no more :-

3 A few more struggles here,

A few more partings o'er,

A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more :-

4 Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that blest day;
Oh, wash me in thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

S.M.

S.M.

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I

2 Rest for the fevered brain,
Rest for the throbbing eye;

Thro' these parched lips of thine no more
Shall pass the moan or sigh.

3 Soon shall the trump of God
Give out the welcome sound,
That shakes thy silent chamber-walls,
And breaks the sealed ground.

4 Ye dwellers in the dust,

Awake! come forth and sing;
Sharp has your frost of winter been,
But bright shall be your spring.

5 'T was sown in weakness here:

'T will then be raised in power; That which was sown an earthly seed, Shall rise a heavenly flower!

Job 7:16.

WOULD not live alway: I ask not to stay

Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way; The few lurid mornings that dawn on us here

Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer.
2 I would not live alway, thus fettered by sin—
Temptation without and corruption within:
Ev'n the rapture of pardon is mingled with fears,
And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent tears.

3 I would not live alway; no, welcome the tomb;
Since Jesus hath 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.

4 Who, who would live alway, away from his God,
Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode,

11s.

Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains, And the noontide of glory eternally reigns?-

5 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet; While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul.

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2 Cor. 12:10.

11s.

OR what shall I praise thee, my God and my King, For what blessings the tribute of gratitude bring? Shall I praise thee for pleasure, for health, or for ease, For the sunshine of youth, for the garden of peace?

2 For this I should praise; but if only for this,

I should leave half untold the donation of bliss!
I thank thee for sickness, for sorrow, and care,
For the thorns I have gathered, the anguish I bear;-

3 For nights of anxiety, watching, and tears,

A present of pain, a prospective of fears;

I praise thee, I bless thee, my Lord and my God,
For the good and the evil thy hand hath bestowed!

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Ps. 102: 24.

O to the grave in all thy glorious prime!
In full activity of zeal and power;

A Christian cannot die before his time;
The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour.

2 Go to the grave; at noon from labor cease;

Rest on thy sheaves, thy harvest-task is done;
Come from the heat of battle, and in peace,
Soldier! go home; with thee the fight is won.

3 Go to the grave, which, faithful to its trust,
The germ of immortality shall keep ;
While, safe as watched by cherubim, thy dust
Shall to the judgment-day in Jesus sleep.

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4 Go to the grave, for there thy Saviour lay
In death's embraces, ere he rose on high;
And all the ransomed, by that narrow way,
Pass to eternal life beyond the sky.

5 Go to the grave? no, take thy seat above!
Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord,
Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love,
And open vision for the written Word.

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FTEN at evening comes a glowing thought

Of that which lies beyond our present sense;

Of those high scenes whose glories all are wrought
By God's pure love, and his omnipotence.

2 The golden bars that shine behind the sun,

The glorious seas that seem beneath him poured, The splendid hues, all melting into one,

These look thy outworks, palace of the Lord!

3 Yet not, not here, O city of our God!
Do we thy ageless glories truly see,
As when the souls, submissive 'neath the rod,
Or white in pureness, testify of thee!

4 A holy charity still tells us more

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Of thy real beauty, bright, serene and high, Where love and faith walk on the emblazoned floor, And perfect joy doth sing unceasingly.

5 O Son of God! exalted on thy throne,

By whom our pardon, light, and peace are given, Impart the grace that comes from thee alone,

And make us feel, that we may see, thy heaven.

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TH

1 Cor. 15:36.

HIS place is holy ground!
World, with its cares, away!
A holy, solemn stillness, round
This lifeless, mouldering clay;
Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear,
Can reach the peaceful sleeper here.

2 Behold the bed of death,

The pale and mortal clay!
Heard ye the sob of parting breath?
Marked ye the eye's last ray?
No! life so sweetly ceased to be,
It lapsed in immortality.

3 Why mourn the pious dead?

Why sorrows swell our eyes?
Can sighs recall the spirit fled ?
Shall vain regrets arise?

S.H.M.

Though death has caused this altered mien,
In heaven the ransomed soul is seen.

4 Bury the dead, and weep

In stillness o'er the loss,

Bury the dead! in Christ they sleep
Who bore on earth his cross;

And from the grave their dust shall rise,
In his own image to the skies.

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1 Cor. 15:19.

RIEND after friend departs;
Who has not lost a friend?

There is no union here of hearts

That finds not here an end:
Were this frail world our only rest,
Living or dying, none were blest.

S.H.M.