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!

1

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

HYMN 591.

C. M.

HART.

Preparation for death. Matt. xxiv. 44.

VAL

AIN 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.

1

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.

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

'W

HERE 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.

H, 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.

STEELL.

HYMN 594. C. M.

Victory over death. I Cor. xv. 57.

1DEAR Saviour, thy victorious love

Can all my fears control;

Can bid the pangs of guilt remove,
And cheer the trembling soul.

2 Victorious love! thy wond'rous pow'r
From sin and death can raise ;
Can gild the dark, departing hour,
And tune its groans to praise.

3 Then shall the joyful spirit soar

To life beyond the sky,

Where gloomy death can frown no more,

And guilt and terror die.

4 No more, O pale Destroyer, boast Thy universal sway;

1

To heav'n-born souls thy sting is lostThy night, the gate of day.

S

HYMN 595. C. M

Celestial prospects

WEET glories rush upon my sight,
And charm my wond'ring eyes;

The regions of immortal light,

The beauties of the skies!

2 All hail! ye fair celestial shores, Ye lands of endless day;

Swift on my view your prospect pours,
And drives my griefs away.

3 There's a delightful clearness now-
My clouds of doubt are gone;
Fled is my former darkness too-
My fears are all withdrawn.

4 Short is the passage-short the space
Between my home and me;
There! there behold the radiant place!
How near the mansions be!

5 Immortal wonders! boundless things,
In those dear worlds appear!
Prepare me, Lord, to stretch my wings,
And in those glories share.

HYMN 596.

C. M.

WATTS.

1

'E

The everlasting song.

ARTH has engross'd my love too long!
'Tis time I lift mine eyes

Upward, dear Father, to thy throne,
And to my native skies.

2 There the blest man, my Saviour, sits:
The God! how bright he shines!
And scatters infinite delights

On all the happy minds.