Εικόνες σελίδας
PDF
Ηλεκτρ. έκδοση

O, refresh us!

Travelling through this wilderness.
2 Thanks we give and adoration,
For thy gospel's joyful sound;
May the fruits of thy salvation
In our hearts and lives be found;
May thy presence

With us evermore abound.

3 So, whene'er the signal's given,
Us from earth to call away,
Borne on angel's wings to heaven,
Glad to leave our cumbrous clay,
May we ready,

Rise and reign in endless day!

462.

8.7.4.

ROBINSON.

Christ a Guide through Death to Glory.-Ps. xlviii. 14; lxxiii. 24.

GUIDE me, O thou great Jehovah!
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but thou art mighty;
Hold me with thy powerful hand;
Bread of heaven,

Feed me now and evermore.

2 Open thou the crystal fountain,

Whence the healing streams do flow;
Let the fiery, cloudy pillar

Lead me all my journey through:
Strong Deliverer,

Be thou still my strength and shield.

3 When I tread the verge of Jordan, Bid my anxious fears subside!

Death of deaths, and hell's destruction, Land me safe on Canaan's side; Songs of praises

I will ever give to thee.

463.

8.7.

HART.

The Burial of a Saint.-1 Cor. xv. 42-44, 54, 55, 57.

SONS of God, by blest adoption,
View the dead with steady eyes;
What is sown thus in corruption,
Shall in incorruption rise;

What is sown in death's dishonour,
Shall revive to glory's light:

What is sown in this weak manner,
Shall be raised in matchless might.

2 Earthly cavern, to thy keeping We commit our brother's dust: Keep it softly, softly sleeping,

Till our Lord demand thy trust: Sweetly sleep, dear saint, in Jesus; Thou with us shalt wake from death: Hold he cannot, though he seize us; We his power defy by faith.

3 Jesus, thy rich consolations
To thy mourning people send!
May we all, with faith and patience
Wait for our approaching end:
Keep from courage, vain or vaunted,
For our change our hearts prepare;
Give us confidence undaunted,
Cheerful hope and godly fear.

[blocks in formation]

Victory over Death.-1 Cor. xv. 55, &c.

O! FOR an overcoming faith,
To cheer my dying hours;

WATTS.

To triumph o'er the monster, Death,
And all his frightful powers.

2 Joyful with all the strength I have,
My quivering lips should sing,
"Where is thy boasted victory, Grave,
And where's the monster's sting?"
3 If sin be pardon'd, I'm secure;
Death has no sting beside;

The law gives sin its damning power,
But Christ, my ransom, died.

4 Now to the God of victory

Immortal thanks be paid,

Who makes us conquerors, though we die,
Through Christ our living Head.

465.

C. M.

WATTS.

Afflictions and Death under Providence. Job v. 6, 8.

NOT from the dust affliction grows,
Nor troubles rise by chance;

Yet we are born to cares and woes-
A sad inheritance!

2 As sparks break out from burning coals, And still are upwards borne;

So grief is rooted in our souls,

And man grows up to mourn.

3 Yet with my God I leave my cause, And trust his promised grace;

He rules me by his well-known laws
Of love and righteousness.

4 Not all the pains that e'er I bore,
Shall spoil my future peace:
For death and hell can do no more
Than what my Father please.

466.

C. M.

WATTS.

The Death and Burial of a Saint.-1 Thess. iv. 13, 14.

WHY do we mourn departed friends,
Or shake at death's alarms?
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends,
To call them to his arms.

2 Are we not tending upward too,
As fast as time can move?

Nor should we wish the hours more slow,
To keep us from our love.

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

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

4 [The graves of all his saints he bless'd, And soften'd every bed:

Where should the dying members rest, But with their dying Head?]

5 Thence he arose, ascending high,
And show'd our feet the way:

Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,
At the great rising-day.

6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise:

Awake, ye nations under ground,
Ye saints, ascend the skies.

467.

C. M.

SWAIN.

Looking to Jesus in Death.-Titus ii. 13, 14.

WHY should we shrink at Jordan's flood,
Or dread the unknown way?
See, yonder rolls a stream of blood
That bears the curse away!

2 Death lost his sting when Jesus bled:
When Jesus left the ground,
Disarm'd, the King of terrors fled,
And felt a mortal wound.

3 And now his office is to wait
Between the saints and sin:
A porter at the heavenly gate,
To let the pilgrims in!

4 And though his pale and ghastly face May seem to frown' the while;

We soon shall see the King of grace,
And he'll for ever smile!

468.

C. M.

W. W. HORne.

"To die is gain.”—Phil. i. 21.

DEATH is no more a frightful foe;

Since I with Christ shall reign,
With joy I leave this world of woe:
For me to die is gain.

2 To darkness, doubts, and fears adieu! Adieu, thou world so vain!

Then shall I know no more of you:
For me to die is gain.

« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »