AND HYMNS.

5 If fmiling mercy crown our lives, Its praifes fhall be ſpread, And we'll adore the juftice too That ftrikes our comforts dead.

I

VII.

The Chriftian's Triumph over Death. Job xix. 25.

GReat God, I own thy fentence juft,

And nature muſt decay; I yield my body to the duſt, To dwell with fellow- clay.

2 Yet faith may triumph o'er the grave, And trample on the tombs; My Jefus, my Redeemer lives, My God, my Saviour comes.

3 The mighty Conq'ror fhall appear High on a royal feat, And death, the laft of all his foes, Lye vanquiſh'd at his feet.

4 Tho' greedy worms devour my ſkin, And gnaw my wafting fleſh, When God fhall build my frame again, He'll clothe it all afreſh.

II