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HYMN 564. C. M.

Springfield. Wareham.

1 "TIS hard, from those we love, to go, Who weep beside our bed,

Whose tears bedew our burning brow,
Whose arm supports our head:

2 When fading from the dizzy view,
I sought their forms in vain;
The bitterness of death I knew,
And groan'd to live again.

3 'Tis dreadful when th' accuser's pow'r
Assails the sinking heart,
Recalling ev'ry wasted hour,
And each unworthy part.

4 Yet, Jesus, in that mortal fray,
Thy blessed comfort stole,
Like sunshine in an autumn day
Across my darken'd soul.

5 When soon, or late, this feeble breath No more to thee can pray,

Support me through the vale of death,
And in the darksome way.

6 When cloth'd in fleshly weeds again,
I wait thy dread decree;
Judge of the world, remember then,
That thou hast died for me.

FUNERAL.

HYMN 565. C. M.

Martyr's. Lebanon.

Funeral of a faithful Minister.

1 FAR from affliction, toil, and care,
The happy soul is fled;

The breathless clay shall slumber here,
Among the silent dead.

2 The gospel was his joy and song,
E'en to his latest breath;
The truth he had proclaim'd so long
Was his support in death.

3 Now he resides where Jesus is,
Above this dusky sphere;
His soul was ripen'd for that bliss,
While yet he sojourn'd here.

4 The Churches' loss we all deplore,
And shed the falling tear;

Since we shall see his face no more,
Till Jesus shall appear.

5 But we are hasting to the tomb ;
Oh, may we ready stand;

Then, dearest Lord, receive us home,
To dwell at thy right hand.

Collyer.

HYMN 566. L. M.

Kingsbridge. Armley.

Eccl. xii. 7.

1 FROM his low bed of mortal dust, Escap'd the prison of his clay, The new inhabitant of bliss,

To heav'n directs his wond'rous way. 2 Ye fields, that witness'd once his tears, Ye winds, that wafted oft his sighs, Ye mountains, where he breath'd his pray'rs

When sorrow's shadows veil'd his eyes.
3 No more the weary pilgrim mourns,
No more affliction wrings his heart;
Th' unfetter'd soul to God returns-
For ever he and anguish part!-

4 Receive, O earth, his faded form,
In thy cold bosom let it lie;
Safe let it rest from ev'ry storm-
Soon must it rise no more to die!

HYMN 567. L. M.

Norfolk. Armley.

The grave. Job iii. 17.

1 THE grave is now a favor'd spot,-
To saints who sleep, in Jesus bless'd;
For there the wicked trouble not,
And there the weary are at rest.

2 At rest in Jesus' faithful arms;
At rest as in a peaceful bed;
Secure from all the dreadful storms,
Which round this sinful world are spread.
3 Thrice happy souls, who're gone before
To that inheritance divine!
They labor, sorrow, sigh no more,
But bright in endless glory shine.
4 Then let our mournful tears be dry,
Or in a gentle measure flow;
We hail them happy in the sky,
And joyful wait our call to go.
HYMN 568.

L. M.

Sicilian. Putney. Armley.

Watts.

1 UNVEIL 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 bless'd 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 569. 8s.

C. Wesley.

Lambeth. Mitcham. Franklin.

Death of a Brother.

1 HOW blest is our brother bereft
Of all that could burden his mind;
How easy the soul that hast left
This wearisome body behind!
Of evil incapable thou,

Whose relics with envy I see,
No longer in misery now,

No longer a sinner like me.

2 This earth is affected no more

With sickness, or shaken with pain; The war in the members is o'er, And never shall vex him again; No anger henceforward, or shame, Shall redden his innocent clay; Extinct is the animal flame,

And passion is vanish'd away. 3 This languishing head is at rest; Its thinking and aching are o'er This quiet, immoveable breast Is heav'd by affliction no more; This heart is no longer the seat Of trouble and torturing pain; It ceases to flutter and beatIt never shall flutter again. 4 The lids he so seldom could close, By sorrow forbidden to sleep, Seal'd up in eternal repose, Have strangely forgotten to weep;

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