Quit its vain fcenes without a tear,
Without a trouble or a fear,

And mingle with the dead :

5 While conscience, like a faithful friend,
Shall thro' the gloomy vale attend,
And cheer our dying breath

I

Shall, when all other comforts cease,
Like a kind angel whisper peace,
And smooth the bed of death.

CCCLI.

H

Common Metre. WATTS.

The World a poor Exchange.

OW eagerly do Men purfue
Each idle childish toy;

And venture everlasting death
To win a moment's joy.

2 Neglected leave their nobler mind,
Or all its whiteness stain;
And angels' happiness refign,
The blifs of brutes to gain,

3 The pleasures that allure the sense
Are dangerous to us all;

Sweet at the first, how foon fucceeds
The bitterness of gall.

4 God is mine all-fufficient good,
My portion and my choice;
In him my vaft defires are filled,
And all my powers rejoice.

5 In vain the world accofts my ear,
And tempts my heart anew;

T4

I cannot

I

I cannot buy your blifs fo dear,
Nor part with heaven for you.

CCCLII. Short Metre. Scorт.

The Changes of Life from God.

A

S various as the moon

Is man's estate below;
To his bright day of gladness soon
Succeeds a night of woe,

2 The night of woe refigns
Its darkness and its grief;
Again the morn of comfort fhines,
And brings our fouls relief.

3

4

5

Yet not to fickle chance

Is man's condition given:

His bright and darker hours advance
By the fixed laws of heaven.

God measures unto all

Their lot of good and ill;

Nor this too great, nor that too small,

All is a Father's will.

Let each conform his mind

To every changing state;

Rejoicing now, and now refigned,

And the great iffue wait.

Common

Common Metre.

'L'

CCCLIII.

IMITATED FROM WATTS.

Our frail Bodies upheld by GOD.

ET others on their ftrength rely,
Nor death nor anger fear:

No truth more clearly meets our eye,
Than this, that death is near.

2 As the young flowers their leaves expand, We flourish bright and gay;

A chilling blaft blows o'er the land,
And all is fwept away.

3 Our life contains a thousand springs,
And dies if one be gone;

Yet though a breath disorder brings,
Still the machine moves on.

4 But not our wisdom or command,
That bids disorder flee;

'Tis thine, O God, thy guardian hand, And thine the glory be.

5 And what thou'rt pleased to preserve
O let us not abuse,

But facredly thy will fubferve,
And anfwer all thy views.

I

CCCLIV.

Common Metre.

UNKNOWN.

The Leffon of human Frailty.

WIFT as the feathered arrow flies,
And cuts the yielding air;

SWA

Or

Or as a kindling meteor dies,
Ere it can well appear.

2 So pafs our fleeting years away,
And time runs on its race:
In vain we ask a moment's ftay,
Time leffens not its pace.

3 But, Lord, what mighty things depend
On our precarious breath!
And foon this fleeting life will end
In future life or death.

4 O make us truly wife to learn
How very frail we are ;

That we may mind our grand concern,
And for our change prepare.

5 May think of death, and learn to die
To all inferior things;
Whilft our glad fouls afpiring fly
To life's eternal fprings.

6 Then may we bid our years roll on,
And time make hafte away:

The fooner will our fouls be gone
To endless life and day.

CCCLV. Long Metre.

WATTS.

With Life, the Season of Preparation is gone.

'L

22

IFE is the time to ferve the Lord, The time t'enfure the great reward And while the lamp of life does burn, The finner to his God may turn.

Life is the hour, which God has given To fit ourselves for him and heaven;

The

3

4

5

I

2

3

The day of grace, and mortals may
Secure the bleffings of the day.

The living know that they must die;
But all the dead inactive lie;

They reap no good from all that's done
Beneath the circuit of the fun.

There are no acts of pardon paffed,
In the dark grave to which we haste;
A fhort oblivion, long despair
Reign in ill-omened filence there.

Then what thy thoughts design to do,
With all thy heart and hand pursue;
For no device nor work remains,
Nor hope, in gloomy death's domains.

CCCLVI. Long Metre. DODDRIDGE.

B

Reflections on Death.

Ehold the path, which mortals tread, Down to the regions of the dead! Nor will our fleeting moments stay, Nor can we measure back our way.

Gone are my kindred and my friends, Nor other fate on me attends;

Feeble as theirs my mortal frame,
The fame my way, my home the fame.

From vital air, from vital light,
From all on earth that yields delight,
From scenes of duty, means of grace,
I must to God's tribunal pass.

4 O for