The Resurrection of the Body.

218.

BENEATH our feet and o'er our head

Is equal warning given;
Beneath us lie the countless dead,
Above us is the heaven.

2 Their names are graven on the stone,
Their bones are in the clay;
And ere another day is gone,
Ourselves may be as they.

3 Turn, mortal, turn! thy danger know;
Where'er thy foot can tread
The earth rings hollow from below,
And warns thee of her dead.

4 Turn, Christian, turn! thy soul apply To truths divinely given;

The dead that underneath thee lie
Shall live for hell or heaven.

219.

WHAT sinners value, I resign;

Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine: I shall behold thy blissful face, And stand complete in righteousness.

2 This life's a dream, an empty show;
But the bright world to which I go,
Hath joys substantial and sincere ;
When shall I wake and find me there?

3 O glorious hour! O blest abode !
I shall be near and like my God!
And flesh and sin no more control
The sacred pleasures of the soul.

4 My flesh shall slumber in the ground,
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound;
Then burst the chains with sweet surprise,
And in my Saviour's image rise.

220.

HOW long shall death the tyrant reign,
And triumph o'er the just,
While the rich blood of martyrs slain,
Lies mingled with the dust!

2 I see the Lord of glory come,
And flaming guards around;

The skies divide to make him room,
The trumpet shakes the ground.

3 I hear the voice, "Ye dead, arise!"
And, lo, the graves obey;

And waking saints, with joyful eyes,
Salute the expected day.

4 They leave the dust, and on the wing Rise to the middle air;

In shining garments meet their King, And low adore him there.

5 O may my humble spirit stand
Amongst them, clothed in white!
The meanest place at his right hand
Is infinite delight.

221.

WHY do we mourn departing friends,

Or shake at death's alarms?

"Tis but the voice that Jesus sends To call them to his arms.

2 Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?
There the Redeemer's body lay,
And angels cheer'd the gloom.

3 The graves of all the saints he bless'd, And soften'd every bed;

Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying Head?

4 Thence he arose ascending high,
And show'd our feet the way;
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly
At the great rising day.

5 Then let the last loud trumpet sound, And bid our kindred rise;

Awake, ye nations under ground,
Ye saints, ascend the skies.

222.

AWAKE, ye saints, and raise your eyes,
And raise your voices high;
Awake, and praise that sovereign love,
That shows salvation nigh.

2 On all the wings of time it flies,
Each moment brings it near;
Then welcome each declining day!
Welcome each closing year!

3 Not many years their rounds shall run, Nor many mornings rise,

Ere all its glories stand revealed
To our admiring eyes.

4 Ye wheels of nature, speed your course: Ye mortal powers decay;

Fast as ye bring the night of death,
Ye bring eternal day.