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These fountains can yield no suppliesThese hollows from water are free; The tears are all wip'd from these eyes, And evil they never shall see. 5 To mourn and to suffer is mine, While bound in a prison I breathe, And still for deliverance pine, And press to the issues of death. What now with my tears I bedev, Oh, shall I not shortly become! My spirit created anew, Ere I am consign'd to the tomb!

HYMN 570. 8s. Mitcham. Uxbridge. Franklin. Death of a Sister. "TIS finish'd : the conflict is past, The heaven-born spirit is fled; Her wish is accomplish'd at last, And now she's entomb'd with the dead. The months of affliction are o'er, . The days and the nights of distress; We see her in anguish no moreShe's gained her happy release. 2 No sickness, or sorrow, or pain, Shall ever disquiet her now ; For death to her spirit was gain, Since Christ was her life when below. Her soul has now taken its flight o mansions of glory above, To mingle with angels of light, , And #" in the kingdom of love. *

3 The victory now is obtain'd;

She's gone her dear Saviour to see;

Her wishes she fully has gain'd-
She's now where she longed to be.

Then let us forbear to complain,
That she has now gone from our sight;

We soon shall behold her again,
With new and redoubled delight.

HYMN 571. C. M. Newton. - Mear. Barby. 1 IN vain my fancy strives to paint The moment after death; The glories that surround a saint, When yielding up his breath.

2 One gentle sigh his fetters breaks,
We scarce can say, “He’s gone!”
Before the willing spirit takes
Its mansions near the throne.

3 Faith strives, but all its efforts fail,
To trace the spirit's flight;
No eve can pierce within the veil
Which hides the world of light.

4 Thus much (and this is all) we know,
Saints are completely blest;
Have done with sin, and care, and wo,
And with their Saviour rest.

5 On harps of gold they praise his name,
His face they always view,
Then let us foll’wers be of them,
That we may praise him "'s

HYMN 572. S. M. Newton. St. Thomas. Dover. Balaam's wish. Num. xxiii. 10. 1 HOW blest the righteous are, When they resign their breath ! No wonder Balaam wish'd to share, In such a happy death, 2 “Oh! let me die,” said he, “The death the righteous do; When life is ended, let me be Found with the faithful few.”3 The force of truth, how great, * When enemies confess! None but the righteous whom they hate, A solid hope possess. 4 But Balaam’s wish was vainHis heart was insineere; He thirsted for unrighteous gain, And sought a portion here. 5 May we, O Lord most high, Warning from hence receive; If like the righteous we would die, To choose the life they live.

HYMN 573. C. M. • Steele.
Standish. Funeral Hymn.
Death of a young person.

* WHEN blooming youth is snatch'd away By '. resistless hand,

Our hearts the mournful tribute pay, Which pity must demand. 2. While pity prompts the rising sigh, Oh, may this truth, impress'd With awful pow'r—“I too must die”Sink deep in ev'ry breast.

3 The voice of this alarming scene
May ev'ry heart obey;
Nor be the '; warning vain,
Which calls to watch, and pray.

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1 THE once lov'd form, now cold and dead,
Each mournful thought employs:
And nature weeps her comforts fled,
And wither'd all her joys.

2. But wait the interposing gloom,
And lo! stern winter flies;
And, dress'd in beauty's fairest bloom,
The flow'ry tribes arise.
3 Hope looks beyond the bounds of time,
hen what we now de lore,
Shall rise in full, immortal prime,
And bloom to fade no mor,

4 Then cease, fond nature, cease thy tears;
Religion points on high;
There everlasting spring appears,
And joys which cannot die.

HYMN 575. L. M. Newton.
Putney. Darwent. Surry.

1 OFT as the bell, with solemn toll,
Speaks the departure of a soul,
Let each one ask himself, “Am I
Prepar'd, should I be call'd to die?

2 “Only this frail and fleeting breath Preserves me from the jaws of death;

. Soon as it fails, at once I’m gone, And plung'd into a world unknown.

3 * Then leaving all I lov’d below,
To God's tribunal I must go;
Must hear the Judge pronounce my fate,
And fix my everlasting state.”

4 LoRD JESUs! help me now to flee, And seek my hope alone in thee; # thy blood, # Spirit giveSubdue my sins and let me live. 5 Then when the solemn bell I hear, If sav'd from guilt, I need not fear; Nor would the thought distressing be, . Perhaps it next may toll for me.

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