Consolations in Bereavement.
1 THE air of Death breathes through our souls,
The dead all round us lie;
By day and night the death-bell tolls,
And says, "Prepare to die!"
2 The loving ones we loved the best,
Like music all are gone;
And the wan moonlight bathes in rest,
Their monumental stone.
3 But not when the death-prayer is said,
The life of life departs:
The body in the grave is laid,
Its beauty in our hearts.
4 At holy midnight voices sweet,
Like fragrance fill the room;
And happy ghosts with noiseless feet,
Come brightening from the tomb.
5 We know who sends the visions bright,
From whose dear side they came!
We veil our eyes before thy light,
We bless our Saviour's name!
6 This frame, O God, this feeble breath,
Thy hand may soon destroy;
We think of Thee, and feel in death
A deep and awful joy.
7 Dim is the light of vanished years
In the glory yet to come;
O idle grief! O foolish tears!
When Jesus calls us home.
Death of the Young.
1 CALM on the bosom of thy God,
Young spirit, rest thee now!
E'en while with us thy footsteps trod,
His seal was on thy brow.
2 Dust, to its narrow house beneath!
Soul, to its place on high!
They that have seen thy look in death,
No more may fear to die.
3 Lone are the paths, and sad the bowers,
Whence thy meek smile is gone;
But O, a brighter home than ours,
In heaven is now thine own.
1 As the sweet flower that scents the morn,
But withers in the rising day,
Thus lovely was this infant's dawn,
Thus swiftly fled its life away.
2 It died ere its expanding soul
Had ever burnt with wrong desires,
Had ever spurned at Heaven's control,
Or ever quenched its sacred fires.
3 It died to sin, it died to cares,
But for a moment felt the rod:-
O mourner! such, the Lord declares,
Such are the children of our God!
Death of a Christian in his Prime.
1 Go 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, 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.
4 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.
On the Death of an aged Christian.
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.
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 Saviour's joy.
1 CLAY to clay, and dust to dust!
Let them mingle- for they must!
Give to earth the earthly clod,
For the spirit's fled to God.
2 Never more shall midnight's damp
Darken round this mortal lamp;
Never more shall noonday's glance
Search this mortal countenance.
3 Deep the pit, and cold the bed,
Where the spoils of death are laid:
Stiff the curtains, chill the gloom,
Of man's melancholy tomb.
4 Look aloft! The spirit's risen
Death cannot the soul imprison:
"Tis in heaven that spirits dwell,
Glorious, though invisible.
5 Thither let us turn our view;
Peace is there, and comfort too:
There shall those we love be found,
Tracing joy's eternal round.
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