Sinners, now behold and tremble; All your crimes are brought to light. 4 Lost in ease, or carnal pleasure, Sporting on the burning brink; Now, you say, you have no leisure, You can find no time to think. 5 Ye-who now, conviction stifling,

Waste your time-the loss deplore; Hear the angel-cease your trifling"Time," he cries, "shall be no more." 6 Pause, and hear the voice of reasonCatch the moments as they flyYou who lose the present season, You must all find time to die.

HYMN 589. L. M.

Surry. Warwick.

Needham.

The books opened. Rev. xx. 12.

1 METHINKS the last great day is come< Methinks I hear the trumpet sound, That shakes the earth, rends ev'ry tomb, And wakes the pris'ners under ground. 2 The mighty deep gives up her trust, Aw'd by the Judge's high command; Both small and great now quit their dust, And round the dread tribunal stand. 3 Behold the awful books display'd,

Big with th' important fates of men; Each deed and word now public made, As wrote by heav'n's unerring pen.

4 To ev'ry soul, the books assign The joyous or the dread reward; Sinners in vain lament and pine

No plea the Judge will here regard. 5 Lord, when these awful leaves unfold, May life's fair book my soul approve! There may I read my name enroll'd, And triumph in redeeming love!

DEATH AND HEAVEN.

HYMN 590. C. M.

Elgin. Windsor. Standish.

1 Sam. xv. 32.

Collyer.

1 WHEN, bending o'er the brink of life, My trembling soul shall stand, Waiting to pass death's awful flood Great God, at thy command!

2 When weeping friends surround my bed, And close my sightless eyes;

When shatter'd by the weight of years
This broken body lies:

3 When ev'ry long lov'd scene of life
Stands ready to depart;

When the last sigh that shakes the frame
Shall rend this bursting heart:

4 O, thou great source of joy supreme,
Whose arm alone can save,
Dispel the darkness that surrounds
The entrance to the grave!

5 Lay thy supporting gentle hand
Beneath my sinking head;
And, with a ray of love divine,
Illume my dying bed!

6 Leaning on thy dear faithful breast,
May I resign my breath!

And, in thy fond embraces, lose "The bitterness of death!"

HYMN 591. C. M.

Bishopsgate. Chapel. Standish.

Hart.

Preparation for death. Matt. xxiv. 44. 1 VAIN man, thy fond pursuits forbear; Repent!-thy end is nigh!

Death, at the farthest, can't be far-
Oh, think before thou die!

2 Reflect-thou hast a soul to save:
Thy sins-how high they mount!
What are thy hopes beyond the grave?
How stands that dread account?

3 Death enters-and there's no defence-
His time, there's none can tell :
He'll in a moment call thee hence,
To heaven-or to hell!

4 Thy flesh, perhaps thy chiefest care,
Shall crawling worms consume:
But, ah! destruction stops not there-
Sin kills beyond the tomb.

5 To-day, the gospel calls; to-day,
Sinners, it speaks to you:
Let ev'ry one forsake his way
And mercy will ensue.

HYMN 592. L. M. Montgomery.

Surry. Darwent. Putney.

The living know, &c. Eccl. ix. 5.

1 WHERE are the dead?-In heav'n or hell
Their disembodied spirits dwell;
Their perish'd forms in bonds of clay,
Reserv'd until the judgment day.

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 wo 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.
HYMN 593. S. M. Montgomery.

Shirland. Berkley.

1 OH, where shall rest be found, Rest for the weary soul! "Twere vain the ocean's depths to sound, Or pierce to either pole.

2 The world can never give

The bliss for which we sigh;
'Tis not the whole of life to live,
Nor all of death to die.

3 Beyond this vale of tears
There is a life above,
Unmeasur'd by the flight of years-
And all that life is love.

4 There is a death whose pang
Outlasts the fleeting breath:
Oh! what eternal horrors hang
Around the second death.
5 Lord, God of truth and grace

Teach us that death to shun:-
Lest we be driven from thy face,
And evermore undone.

6 Here would we end our quest→→→
Alone are found in thee

The life of perfect love-the rest
Of immortality.