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2 Who are the dead?-The sons of time In ev'ry age, and state, and clime; Renown'd, dishonor'd or forgot,

The place that knew them, knows them not. 3 Where are the living ?-On the ground Where pray'r is heard and mercy found; Where in the compass of a span,

The mortal makes th' immortal man.
4 Who are the living ?-They whose breath
Draws ev'ry moment nigh to death;
Of endless bliss or woe the heirs:
Oh, what an awful lot is theirs!
5 Then, timely warn'd, let us begin
To follow Christ and flee from sin;
Daily grow up in him our head,
Lord of the living and the dead.

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HYMN 165. C. M

Death of a Youth.

W By death's resistless hand,

HEN blooming youth is snatch'd away

Our hearts the mournful tribute pay,
Which pity must demand.

2 While pity prompts the rising sigh,
O may this truth imprest

With awful pow'r-I too must die-
Sink deep in every breast.

3 Let this vain world engage no more:
Behold the gaping tomb!

It bids us seize the present hour!
To-morrow death may come.

4 The voice of this alarming scene
May ev'ry heart obey;

Nor be the heav'nly warning vain,
Which calls to watch and pray.

5 O let us fly, to Jesus fly,

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Whose pow'rful arm can save;
Then shall our hopes ascend on high,
And triumph o'er the grave.

HYMN 166. L. M.

The death of the righteous.

HOW bless'd the righteous when he dies,

When sinks a weary soul to rest,

How mildly beam the closing eyes,

How gently heaves th' expiring breast. 2 So fades a summer cloud away,

So sinks the gale, when storms are o'er ;
So gently shuts the eve of day,
So dies a wave along the shore.

3 A holy quiet reigns around,

A calm which life, nor death destroys;
Nothing disturbs that peace profound
Which his unfetter'd soul enjoys.

4 Farewell, conflicting hopes, and fears,
Where lights and shades alternate dwell!
How bright th' unchanging morn appears,
Farewell, inconstant world, farewell.
5 Life's duty done, as sinks the clay,
Light from its load the spirit flies;
While heav'n and earth combine to say,
How bless'd the righteous when he dies.
The Resurrection and
Judgment.

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HYMN 167. L. M.
Hope in the resurrection.

NVEIL thy bosom, faithful tomb,
Take this new treasure to thy trust;
And give these sacred relics room,
To seek a slumber in the dust.

2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear
Invade thy bounds. No mortal woes
Can reach the peaceful sleeper here,
While angels watch the soft repose.
3 So Jesus slept ;—God's dying Son
Pass'd thro'the grave and blest the bed;
Rest here, blest saint, till from his throne
The morning break,and pierce the shade.
4 Break from his throne, illustrious morn;
Attend, O earth! his sov'reign word;
Restore thy trust—a glorious form-
Call'd to ascend and meet the Lord.
HYMN 168. C. M.

Prospect of the resurrection.

1HRO' sorrow's night and danger's path, Amid the deep'ning gloom,

We, soldiers of an injur❜d King,

Are marching to the tomb.

2 There when the turmoil is no more,
And all our pow'rs decay,
Our cold remains, in solitude,
Shall sleep the years away.
3 Our labors done, securely laid
In this our last retreat,
Unheeded, o'er our silent dust,
The storms of life shall beat.

4 These ashes poor, this little dust,
Our Father's care shall keep,

Till the last angel rise, and break
The long and dreary sleep.

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Then love's soft dew o'er ev'ry eye
Shall shed its mildest rays,

And the long silent dust shall burst
With shouts of endless praise.

HYMN 169. L. M.

Christ's coming to Judgment.

HE Lord shall come, the earth shall quake
The mountains to their centre shake;
And with'ring from the vault of night,
The stars shall pale their feeble light.
2 The Lord shall come, but not the same,
As once in lowliness he came ;

A silent lamb before his foes,
A weary man, and full of woes.

3 The Lord shall come ! a dreadful form,
With rainbow wreath, and robes of storm,
On cherub wings, and wings of wind,
Appointed judge of all mankind.

4 Can this be He, who wont to stray,
A pilgrim on the world's highway,
Oppress'd by pow'r, and mock'd by pride,
The Nazarene, the crucified?

5 While sinners in despair shall call,
"Rocks hide us, mountains on us fall!”
The saints ascending from the tomb,
Shall joyful sing," the Lord is come."

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Heaven.

HYMN 170. P. M. 11.

The Christian's Home.

ID scenes of confusion and creature complaints,

How sweet to my soul is communion with'saints; To find at the banquet of mercy there's room, And feel in the presence of Jesus at home.

2 Sweet bonds that unite all the children of peace! And thrice precious Jesus, whose love cannot

cease!

Though oft from thy presence in sadness I

roam,

I long to behold thee, in glory at home.

3 I sigh from this body of sin to be free, Which hinders my joy and communion with thee;

Though now my temptations like billows may foam,

All, all will be peace, when I'm with thee at home.

4 While here in the valley of conflict I stay, O give me submission and strength as my day; In all my afflictions to thee would I come, Rejoicing in hope of my glorious home. 5 Whate'er thou deniest, O give me thy grace, The Spirit's sure witness, and smiles of thy face; Indulge me with patience to wait at thy throne, And find even now a sweet foretaste of home. 6 I long, dearest Lord, in thy beauties to shine, No more as an exile in sorrow to pine,

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And in thy dear image, arise from the tomb, With glorified millions to praise thee, at home. HYMN 171. C. M.

The heavenly Jerusalem anticipated.

JERUSALEM, my happy home,

Name ever dear to me ;

When shall my labors have an end,
In joy and peace, and thee.

2 When shall these eyes thy heav'n-built walls, And pearly gates behold?

Thy bulwarks with salvation strong,
And streets of shining gold?

3 O when, thou city of my God,
Shall I thy courts ascend;

Where congregations ne'er break up,
And Sabbaths have no end?

4 There happier bow'rs than Eden's bloom,
Nor sin, nor sorrow know;

Bless'd seats, through wild and stormy scenes, I onward press to you.

5 Apostles, martyrs, prophets there,
Around my Saviour stand;

And soon my friends in Christ below,
Will join the glorious band.

6 Jerusalem, my happy home!

My soul still pants for thee, Then shall my labors have an end, When I thy joy shall see.

HYMN 172. P. M. 7

Saints in Heaven.

H'Dwell the raptur'd saints above

IGH in yonder realms of light,

Far beyond our feeble sight,
Happy in Immanuel's love.
Pilgrims in this vale of tears,
Once they knew, like us below,
Gloomy doubts, distressing fears,
Tort'ring pain and heavy wo.
2 Oft the big unbidden tear,

Stealing down the furrow'd cheek,
Told, in eloquence sincere,

Tales of wo they could not speak.
But these days of weeping o'er,
Past this scene of toil and pain,
They shall feel distress no more,
Never-never weep again!

3 'Mid the chorus of the skies,

'Mid th' angelic lyres above, Hark-their songs melodious rise, Songs of praise to Jesus, love! Happy spirits! ye are fled,

Where no grief can entrance find, Lull'd to rest the aching head, Sooth'd the anguish of the mind! 4 All is tranquil and serene,

Calm and undisturb'd reposeThere no cloud can interveneThere no angry tempest blows! Ev'ry tear is wip'd away,

Sighs no more shall heave the breast! Night is lost in endless day

Sorrows-in eternal rest!

DOXOLOGIES.
1. L. M.

O God the Father; God the Son,
And God the Spirit, three in one,

Be honor, praise, and glory given,
By all on earth, and all in heaven.

PRAIS

2. L. M.

ORAISE God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise him all creatures here below,

Praise Him above, ye heav'nly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

3. C. M.

NO Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
an we adore;

Be glory as it was, is now,
And shall be evermore.

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