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How make mine own election sure,
A mansion in the skies !
To glorious happiness !
L.M. C. WESLEY. 1762.
And die, my father's God to meet. 2 Numbered among Thy people, I
Expect with joy Thy face to see :
Jesus, in death, remember me ! 3 O that without a lingering groan,
I may the welcome word receive; My body with my charge lay down,
And cease at once to work and live! 4 Walk with me through the dreadful shade,
And certify that Thou art mine ; My spirit, calm and undismayed,
I shall into Thy hands resign. 5 No anxious doubt, no guilty gloom,
Shall damp whom Jesu's presence cheers ; My light, my life, my God is come,
And glory in his face appears. 416 (130)
L.M. S. WESLEY, JUN. 1736.
As fearless of the evening cold.
Parched by the sun's directer ray,
OS Pr broke glory
The momentary glories waste,
The short-lived beauties die away. 3 So blooms the human face divine,
When youth its pride of beauty shows : Fairer than spring the colours shine,
And sweeter than the virgin rose. 4 Or worn by slowly-rolling years,
Or broke by sickness in a day,
The short-lived beauties die away.
With lustre brighter far shall shine •
Safe from diseases and decline.
If heaven must recompense our pains : .
C.M.: HEBER. 1827.
Above us is the heaven.
He lurks in every flower ;
Its peril every hour.
Of youth's soft cheek decay,
On manhood's middle day.
Halt feebly towards the tomb;'
And dreams of days to come ?
Where'er thy foot can tread ;
The earth rings hollow from below,
And warns thee of her dead.
To truths divinely given;
Shall live for hell or heaven.
And spend the remnant to thy praise. 2 My days are shorter than a span ;
A little point my life appears ;
How vain are all his hopes and fears ! 3 Vain his ambition, noise and show ;
Vain are the cares which rack his mind;
And dies and leaves them all behind. 4 O be a nobler portion mine!
My God! I bow before Thy throne :
And fix my hopes on Thee alone.
C.M. . Watts. 1709. UEAR what the voice from heaven proclaims
1 For all the pious dead : Sweet is the savour of their names,
And soft their dying bed.
How kind their slumbers are !
And freed from every snare.
They're present with the Lord ;
End in a great reward.
L.M. 6 lines. C. WESLEY. 1762.
While, pleased Thy spirit to dismiss,
And like the Prince of Life expire.
That death is swallowed up in Thee,
I gasp for immortality,
And feel it in my heart made known.
The' eternal life Thou dost bestow,
I'll trample on my mortal foe,
And long as my Redeemer live.
88 & 78. C. WESLEY. 1749. APPY soul, thy days are ended,
All thy mourning days below :
To the sight of Jesus, go !
Lo! the Saviour stands above;
Reaches out the crown of love.
To thy dear Redeemer's breast,
To His everlasting rest.
Bear a momentary pain;
Suffer, with thy Lord to reign
78 & 6s. C. WESLEY. 1744.
And 'scape from earth away : .
'Tis better far to die !
For our companions' good,
And meekly bear the load:
And sharers of Thy throne.
We quietly submit,
But waiting at Thy feet;
78 & 6s. C. Wesley. 1763. W HERE shall true believers go,
W When from the flesh they Ay?
They mount above the sky,
Or heart can e'er conceive.
Their mourning days are o'er ;
And sighing are no more ;
Storious Jount au jestial Pres live