2'Tis but, at best, a narrow bound, |
That Heaven allows to men;
And pains and sins run through the round
Of threescore years and ten.

3 Well, if ye must be sad and few,
Run on, my days, in haste;
Moments of sin, and months of wo,
Ye cannot fly too fast.

3ThatGod, who darts his lightnings down
Who shakes the worlds above,
And mountains tremble at his frown,
How wondrous is his love!

613}

PSALM 39. 2d Part. C. M. b1
Carolina, York.

The vanity of man as mortal. 1TEACH me the measure of my days,

4 Let heavenly love prepare my soul, TEAC Thou Maker of my frame!

And call her to the skies, Where years of long salvation roll, And glory never dies.

611}

HYMN 58. B.2. C. M.
Plymouth, Abridge.

The shortness of life, and the goodness of God.

I would survey life's narrow space,
And learn how frail I am.

2 A span is all that we can boast,
b Man is but vanity and dust,
An inch or two of time;

1 TIME! what an empty vapour 'tis !
And days, how swift they are!
Swift as an Indian arrow flies,
Or like a shooting star.
2 [The present moments just appear,
Then slide away in haste;
That we can never say, they're here;
But only say, they're past.]

3 [Our life is ever on the wing,
And death is ever nigh;
The moment when our lives begin,
We all begin to die.]
4 Yet, mighty God, our fleeting days
Thy lasting favours share;
Yet, with the bounties of thy grace,
Thou load'st the rolling year.
5 'Tis sovereign mercy finds us food,
And we are cloth'd with love;
While grace stands pointing out the road
That leads our souls above.

6 His goodness runs an endless round;
All glory to the Lord!
His mercy never knows a bound;
And be his name ador'd.

7 Thus we begin the lasting song;
And, when we close our eyes,
Let the next age the praise prolong,
Till time and nature dies.

3

In all his flower and prime.
See the vain race of mortals move
Like shadows o'er the plain;
They rage and strive, desire and love,
But all their noise is vain.
4 Some walk in honour's gaudy show,
Some dig for golden ore;
They toil for heirs, they know not who,
And straight are seen no more.
5 What should I wish or wait for then
From creatures, earth and dust?
They make our expectations vain,
And disappoint our trust.
6 Now I forbid my carnal hope,
My fond desires recal
I give my mortal interest up,
And make my God my all.

614}

H

HYMN 32. B. 2. C. M. b
Durham, Canterbury.

Frailty and folly.

OW short and hasty is our life!
How vast our souls' affairs!
Yet senseless mortals vainly strive
To lavish out their years.
2 Our days run thoughtlessly along,
Without a moment's stay;
Just like a story, or a song,

We pass our lives away.
3 God, from on high, invites us home,
But we march heedless on;
And, ever hastening to the tomb,
Stoop downward as we run.
How we deserve the deepest hell,
That slight the joys above! [feel,
What chains of vengeance should we

4

That break such cords of love! 5Draw us. O God, with sovereign grace, And lift our thoughts on high, That we may end this mortal race, And see salvation nigh.

HYMN 55. B. 2. C. M. b 6 [The busy tribes of flesh and blood,

615} Abridge, Windsor.

Fraillife and succeeding eternity.
1THEE we adore, Eternal Naine,
And humbly own to thee
How feeble is our mortal frame:
What dying worms are we!
2 [Our wasting lives grow shorter still,
As months and days increase;
And every beating pulse we tell
Leaves but the number less.
3 The year rolls round, and steals away
The breath that first it gave;
Whate'er we do, where'er we be,
We're travelling to the grave.]
4 Dangers stand thick through all the
To push us to the tomb; [ground.
And fierce diseases wait around,
To hurry mortals home.

5 Good God, on what a slender thread
Hang everlasting things!
Th' eternal states of all the dead
Upon life's feeble strings!
6 Infinite joy, or endless wo

Attends on every breath;
And yet how unconcern'd we go
Upon the brink of death!

7 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense
To walk this dangerous road;
And, if our souls are hurry'd hence,
May they be found with God.

616 PSALM 90. 1st Part. C. M. b

Durham, Plympton.

Man frail, and God eternal.

OUR God, our help in ages past,

Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home;

2 Under the shadow of thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is thine arm alone,
And our defence is sure.

3 Before the hills in order stood,
Or earth receiv'd her frame,
From everlasting thou art God,
To endless years the same.

With all their lives and cares,
Are carry'd downward by the flood,
And lost in following years.
7 Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;

They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.

8 Like flowery fields the nations stand,
Pleas'd with the morning light;
The flowers beneath the mower's hand
Lie withering ere 'tis night.]
9 Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.

617}

1

PSALM 90. S. M. Aylesbury, Little Marlboro'. The frailty and shortness of life. LORD, what a feeble piece

b

Is this our mortal frame! Our life, how poor a trifle 'tis, That scarce deserves the name.

2 Alas! the brittle clay

That built our body first!

And every month and every day 'Tis mouldering back to dust. Our moments fly apace,

3

4

Nor will our minutes stay;

Just like a flood our hasty days
Are sweeping us away.

Well, if our days must fly,
We'll keep their end in sight;
We'll spend them all in wisdom's way,
And let them speed their flight.

They'll waft us sooner o'er

This life's tempestuous sea:
Soon we shall reach the peaceful shore
Of blest eternity.

2 Long hadst thou reign'd ere time began,
Or dust was fashion'd into man;
And long thy kingdom shall endure,
When earth and time shall be no more.
3 But man, weak man is born to die,
Made up of guilt and vanity:
Thy dreadful sentence, Lord, was just,

Return, ye sinners, to your dust." 4[A thousand of our years amount

Scarce to a day in thine account;
Like yesterday's departed light,
Or the last watch of ending night.]
PAUSE.

620 HYMN 52. B. 2. C. M. b Chelsea, Canterbury.

5 Death, like an overflowing stream,
Sweeps us away; our life's a dream;
An empty tale; a morning flower,
Cut down and wither'd in an hour.
6 [Our age to seventy years is set:3
How short the term! how frail the state
And if to eighty we arrive,
We rather sigh and groan than live.
7 But O how oft thy wrath appears,
And cuts off our expected years:
Thy wrath awakes our humble dread;
We fear the power that strikes us dead.]
8 Teach us, O Lord, how frail is man!
And kindly lengthen out our span,
Till a wise care of piety
Fit us to die and dwell with thee.

Death dreadful, or delightful.
EATH! 'tis a melancholy day

DE
To those that have no God,
When the poor soul is forc'd away
To seek her last abode.

2 In vain to heaven she lifts her eyes;

But guilt, a heavy chain,
Still drags her downward from the skies,
To darkness, fire, and pain.
Awake, and mourn, ye heirs of hell,
Let stubborn sinners fear;
You must be driv'n from earth, and dwell
A long FOREVER there!
See how the pit gapes wide for you,
And flashes in your face;
And thou,my soul, look downward too,
And sing recovering grace.
5 He is a God of sovereign love,

4

6

Who promis'd heaven to me, And taught my thoughts to soar above, Where happy spirits be. Prepare me,Lord, for thy right hand, Then come the joyful day; Come, death, and some celestial band, To bear my soul away.

T is the Lord our Saviour's hand
1IT
Weakens our strength amid the race;
Disease and death, at his command, 621
Arrest us, and cut short our days.
2 Spare us, O Lord, aloud we pray,
Nor let our sun go down at noon;
Thy years are one eternal day,
And must thy children die so soon?

3 Yet, in the midst of death and grief,
This thought our sorrow shall assuage;

Our Father and our Saviour live "Christ is the same through every age." 4 'Twas he this earth's foundation laid, Heaven is the building of his hand; This earth grows old, these heavens shall fade;

And all be chang'd at his command. 5 The starry curtains of the sky, Like garments, shall be laid aside;

But still thy throne stands firm and high,.
Thy church forever must abide.`

2

3

4

To

HYMN 17. B. 1. C. M. X
St. James, Mear.

Victory over death.

FOR an overcoming faith
To cheer my dying hours,
triumph o'er the monster, death,
And all his frightful powers.
Joyful, with all the strength I have,
My quivering lips should sing,
"Where is thy boasted victory, grave?
"And where the monster's sting?"
If sin be pardon'd, I'm secure;
Death hath no sting beside;
The law gives sin its damuing power;
But Christ, my ransom, died.
Now to the God of victory
Who makes us conquerors, while we die,
Immortal thanks be paid,
Through Christ, our living head.

*4Clasp'd in my heavenly Father's arms,
I would forget my breath,
And lose my life among the charms
Of so divine a death.

6 Could we but climb where Moses stood, 629
And view the landscape o'er;
Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold
Should fright us from the shore. [flood

HYMN 27. B. 1. C. M. b 630}

Carthage, Windsor.