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664

L. M.

On the Death of a Child.

1 SO fades the lovely, blooming flower,
Frail, smiling solace of an hour;
So soon our transient comforts fly,
And pleasure only blooms to die.

MRS. STEELE.

2 Is there no kind, no lenient art

To heal the anguish of the heart?
To ease the heavy load of care,
Which nature must, but cannot, bear?

3 Can reason's dictates be obeyed?
Too weak, alas, her strongest aid!
O, let Religion then be nigh;
Her comforts were not made to die.

4 Her powerful aid supports the soul,

And nature owns her kind control;
While she unfolds the sacred page,
Our fiercest griefs resign their rage.

5 Then gentle patience smiles on pain,
And dying hope revives again;
Hope wipes the tear from sorrow's eye,
And faith points upward to the sky.

665

L. M.
Death of Children.

1 SURE, to the mansions of the blest
When infant innocence ascends,
Some angel brighter than the rest
The spotless spirit's flight attends.

J. Q. ADAMS.

2 On wings of ecstasy they rise,
Beyond where worlds material roll,
Till some fair sister of the skies
Receives the unpolluted soul.

3 There, at the Almighty Father's hand,
Nearest the throne of living light,
The choirs of infant seraphs stand,
And dazzling shine, where all are bright.

4 That inextinguishable beam,
With dust united at our birth,
Sheds a more dim, discolored gleam,
The more it lingers upon earth.

5 Closed in this dark abode of clay,

The stream of glory faintly burns,
Nor unobscured the lucid ray

To its own native fount returns.

6 But when the Lord of mortal breath
Decrees his bounty to resume,
And points the silent shaft of death,
Which speeds an infant to the tomb,-

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7 No passion fierce, no low desire

Has quenched the radiance of the flame;
Back to its God the living fire
Returns, unsullied, as it came.

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7s & 6s M.

Adieu to a departed Christian Friend.

1 FAREWELL, thou once a mortal,
Our poor, afflicted friend;
Go, pass the heavenly portal,
To God, thy glorious end.

C. WESLEY.

2 The Author of thy being

Hath summoned thee away;
And faith is lost in seeing,
And night in endless day.
3 With those that went before thee,
The saints of ancient days,
Who shine in sacred story,
Thy soul hath found its place.

4 Acquainted with their sadness,
While in the weeping vale,
Thou sharest now their gladness,
And joys that never fail.

5 No loss of friends shall grieve thee;
That we alone must bear;
They cannot, cannot leave thee,
Thy kind companions there.

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6 From all thy care and sorrow
Thou art escaped to-day ;
And we shall mount to-morrow,
And soar to thee away.

667

C. M.

The Death and Burial of a Saint.

1 WHY do we mourn departing friends, Or shake at death's alarms?

'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends To call them to his arms.

2 Why should we tremble to convey Their bodies to the tomb?

There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
And left a long perfume.

WATTS.

3 The graves of all his saints he blest,
And softened every bed;
Where should the dying members rest,
But with the dying Head?

4 Thence he arose, ascending high,
And showed our feet the way;
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly
At the great rising day.

5 Then let the last, loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise;
Awake, ye nations under ground;
Ye saints, ascend the skies.

668

S. M.

On the Death of an aged Minister.
1 SERVANT of God, well done!
Rest from thy loved employ;
The battle fought, the victory won,
Enter thy Master's joy.

2 The voice of midnight came;
He started up to hear :
A mortal arrow pierced his frame;
He fell, but felt no fear.

MONTGOMERY.

3 Tranquil amidst alarms,

It found him on the field,
A veteran slumbering on his arms,
Beneath his red-cross shield.

4 The pains of death are past; Labor and sorrow cease;

And, life's long warfare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.

5 Soldier of Christ, well done!
Praise be thy new employ ;
And, while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Savior's joy.

669

C. M.

Support under the Loss of Ministers.

1 NOW let our mourning hearts revive, And all our tears be dry;

Why should those eyes be drowned in grief, Which view a Savior nigh?

DODDRIDGE.

2 What though the arm of conquering death Does God's own house invade?

What though the prophet and the priest
Be numbered with the dead?

3 Though earthly shepherds dwell in dust, The aged and the young,

The watchful eye in darkness closed,
And mute the instructive tongue ;

4 The eternal Shepherd still survives,
New comfort to impart;

His eye still guides us, and his voice.
Still animates our heart.

5 "Lo, I am with you," saith the Lord;
"My church shall safe abide;
For I will ne'er forsake my own,
Whose souls in me confide."

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