INO

45 46

How feeble is our mortal frame, What dying worms we be!

2 Our wasting lives grow shorter still, As days and months increase;

DESCRIBING

And every beating pulse we tell Leaves but the number less.

3 The year rolls round, and steals away The breath that first it gave;

Whate'er we do, where'er we be; We're travelling to the grave.

4 Dangers stand thick through all the

To push us to the tomb;

[ ground,

And fierce diseases wait around,

To hurry mortals home.

5 Great God! on what a slender thread

Hang everlasting things!

The' eternal states of all the dead Upon life's feeble strings!

6 Infinite joy, or endless woe,

Attends on every breath;

And yet how unconcern'd we go Upon the brink of death!

7 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense, To walk this dangerous road! And if our souls be hurried hence, May they be found with God.

HYMN 43.

S. M.

1

A To lay this body down? And must my trembling spirit fly Into a world unknown? -A land of deepest shade, Unpierced by human thought; The dreary regions of the dead, Where all things are forgot.

2 Soon as from earth I go,

What will become of me? Eternal happiness or woe

Must then my portion be: Waked by the trumpet's sound, I from my grave shall rise, And see the Judge with glory crown'd, And see the flaming skies.

3 How shall I leave my tomb?

With triumph or regret? A fearful or a joyful doom, A curse or blessing meet? Will angel- bands convey

Their brother to the bar? Or devils drag my soul away, To meet its sentence there?

4 Who can resolve the doubt

That tears my anxious breast? Shall I be with the damn'd cast out, Or number'd with the blest?

I must from God be driven,

Or with my Saviour dwell;

Must come at his command to heaven, Or else- depart to hell.

5 0 thou that would'st not have

One wretched sinner die;

Who diedst thyself, my soul to save From endless misery!

Show me the way to shun

Thy dreadful wrath severe;

That when thou comest on thy throne, I may with joy appear!

6 Thou art thyself the Way, Thyself in me reveal:

So shall I spend my life's short day Obedient to thy will

•

DEATH.

So shall I love my God,

Because he first loved me,

And praise thee in thy bright abode,

To all eternity.

HYMN 44.

8's& 6's.

And must I suddenly comply With nature's stern decree? What after death for me remains? Celestial joy, or hellish pains,

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48

To all eternity!

2 How then ought I on earth to live, While God prolongs the kind reprieve, And props the house of clay! My sole concern, my single care, To watch, and tremble, and prepare, Against the fatal day!

3 No room for mirth or trifling here, For worldly hope, or worldly fear, If life so soon is gone:

If now the Judge is at the door, And all mankind must stand before The' inexorable throne!

4 No matter which my thoughts employ A moment's misery, or joy;

But 0! when both shall end,

Where shall I find my destined place? Shall I my everlasting days

With fiends or angels spend?

5 Nothing is worth a thought beneath, But how I may escape the death That never, never dies!

1

How make mine own election sure, And, when I fail on earth, secure A mansion in the skies!

6 Jesus, vouchsafe a pitying ray: Be thou my Guide, be thou my Way To glorious happiness!

Ah, write the pardon on my heart, And whensoe'er I hence depart, Let me depart in peace.

HYMN 45. L. M. HRINKING from the cold hand of

Shall soon resign this fleeting breath, And die, my father's God to meet. 2 Number'd among thy people, I

Expect with joy thy face to see: Because thou didst for sinners die, Jesus, in death, remember me! 30 that without a lingering groan I may the welcome word receive; My body with my charge lay down, And cease at once to work and live!

HYMN 46.

L. M.

1 THE

sweets, morning flowers display their

And gay their silken leaves unfold, As careless of the roontide heats, As fearless of the evening cold.

2 Nipt by the wind's unkindly blast, Parch'd by the sun's directer ray, The momentary glories waste,

The short- lived beauties die away.

3 So blooms the human face divine,

When youth its pride of beauty shows: Fairer than spring the colours shine, And sweeter than the virgin rose.