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HYMN 582. C. M. H. K. White.

Chapel. Aldridge. Wantage.

1 THRO' 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.

5 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 583. L. M.

China. Luther's Hymn.

1 THE saints, who now in Jesus sleep,
His own almighty pow'r shall keep,
Till dawns the bright illustrious day,
When death itself shall die away.

2 How loud shall our glad voices sing,
When Christ his risen saints shall bring
From beds of dust, and sleeping clay,
To realms of everlasting day!

3 When Jesus we in glory meet,
Our utmost joys shall be complete;
When landed on that heav'nly shore,
Death and the curse shall be no more.

HYMN 584. ` L. M.

Babylon. Carthage.

1 OUR life how short! a groan, a sigh;
We live-and then begin to die:
But Oh! how great a mercy this,
That death's a portal into bliss!

2 My soul! death swallows up thy fears,
My grave-clothes wipe away all tears;
Why should we fear this parting pain,
Who die, that we may live again?

3 Oh! how the resurrection light
Will clarify believer's sight;
How joyful will the saints arise,
And rub the dust from off their eyes!

4 My soul, my body I will trust,
With him who numbers every dust;
My Saviour faithfully will keep
His own-their death is but a sleep.

DAY OF JUDGMENT.

HYMN 585. C. M.

Addison.

Martyr's. Windsor. Colchester.

1 WHEN rising from the bed of death,
O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,
I see my Maker face to face-
Oh, how shall I appear!

2 If yet, while pardon may be found,
And mercy may be sought,

My heart with inward horror shrinks,
And trembles at the thought:

3 When thou, O Lord! shalt stand disclos'd In Majesty severe,

And sit in judgment on my soul,

Oh, how shall I appear!

4 Prepare me, Lord, to meet that day,
Ere yet it be too late,

When I shall view these solemn scenes,
And feel their awful weight.

HYMN 586. C. M.

Elgin. Windsor.

Watts.

Everlasting absence of God intolerable. 1 THAT awful day will surely come, Th' appointed hour makes haste When I must stand before my Judge, And pass the solemn test.

2 Thou lovely Chief of all my joys, Thou Sov'reign of my heart, How could I bear to hear thy voice Pronounce the sound, Depart!

3 The thunder of that dismal word Would so torment my ear,

"Twould tear my soul asunder, Lord,
With most tormenting fear.

4 What to be banish'd from my life,
And yet forbid to die!
To linger in eternal pain,
Yet death for ever fly!

5 Oh, wretched state of deep despair
To see my God remove-
And fix my doleful station where
I must not taste his love!

6 Oh, tell me that my worthless name Is graven on thy hands;

Show me some promise in thy book,
Where my salvation stands.

HYMN 587. 8, 7, 4.

Littleton. Jordan.

Luke xiii. 28.

1 SEE th' Eternal Judge descendingView him seated on his throne! Now, poor sinner, now lamenting, Stand and hear thy awful doomTrumpets call thee!

Stand and hear thy awful doom.

2 Hear the cries he now is venting,
Fill'd with dread of fiercer pain;
While in anguish thus lamenting,
That he ne'er was born again,
Greatly mourning,

That he ne'er was born again :
3 "Yonder sits my slighted Saviour,
With the marks of dying love;
Oh, that I had sought his favor,
When I felt his Spirit move-
Golden moments,

When I felt his Spirit move." 4 Now, despisers, look and wonder! Hope and sinners here must part, Louder than a peal of thunder, Hear the dreadful sound, "Depart!" Lost for ever,

Hear the dreadful sound, "Depart!"

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Northampton Chapel. Tabernacle.

1 SINNERS, take the friendly warningSoon that awful day shall break, And the trumpet with its dawning, All the slumb'ring millions wake. 2 See assembled ev'ry nation !— Lofty cities, temples, tow'rs, Wrapp'd in dreadful conflagration, Earth and sea the flame devours. 3 Ye, who to the world dissemble, While you practise deeds of night,

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