484 Thanatopsis. S.M.
(1088) Dying, not Death.
It is not death to die,--
To leave this weary road,
And, midst the brotherhood on high,
To be at home with God.
2 It is not death to close
The eye long dimmed by tears,
And wake, in glorious repose
To spend eternal years.
3 It is not death to fling
Aside this sinful dust,
And rise, on strong exulting wing,
To live among the just.
4 Jesus, thou Prince of life!
Thy chosen cannot die;
Like thee, they conquer in the strife,
To reign with thee on high.
George W. Bethune, 1847.
485 Thanatopsis. S.M.
(1086) The Crowning Hour.
Servant of God, well done!
Thy glorious warfare's past;
The battle's fought, the race is won,
And thou art crowned at last;--
2 Of all thy heart's desire
Triumphantly possessed;
Lodged by the ministerial choir
In thy Redeemer's breast.
3 In condescending love,
Thy ceaseless prayer he heard,
And bade thee suddenly remove
To thy complete reward.
4 With saints enthroned on high,
Thou dost thy Lord proclaim,
And still to God salvation cry,--
Salvation to the Lamb!
Charles Wesley.
486 Thanatopsis. S.M.
(1089) A Little While.
A few more years shall roll,
A few more seasons come,
And we shall be with those that rest
Asleep within the tomb.
2 A few more suns shall set
O'er these dark hills of time,
And we shall be where suns are not,
A far serener clime.
3 A few more storms shall beat
On this wild rocky shore,
And we shall be where tempests cease,
And surges swell no more.
4 A few more struggles here,
A few more partings o'er,
A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more.
5 'Tis but a little while
And he shall come again,
Who died that we might live, who lives
That we with him may reign.
6 Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that great day;
Oh, wash me in thy precious blood,
And take my sins away.
Horatius Bonar, 1856.
487 St. Sylvester. 8s & 7s.
Death Inevitable.
Days and moments quickly flying
Blend the living with the dead;
Soon shall we who sing be lying,
Each within our narrow bed.
2 Soon our souls to God who gave them
Will have sped their rapid flight;
Able now by grace to save them,
Oh, that while we can we might.
3 Jesus, infinite Redeemer,
Maker of this mighty frame,
Teach, oh, teach us to remember
What we are, and whence we came:--
4 Whence we came, and whither wending
Soon we must through darkness go,
To inherit bliss unending,
Or eternity of woe.
Rev. Edward Caswell, 1849.
As the tree falls so must it lie;
As the man lives so will he die;
As the man dies, such must he be
All through the days of eternity.
Amen.
488 St. Sylvester. 8s & 7s.
(1097) Matthew 6:10.
Jesus, while our hearts are bleeding
O'er the spoils that death has won,
We would at this solemn meeting,
Calmly say,--thy will be done.
2 Though cast down, we're not forsaken;
Though afflicted, not alone;
Thou didst give, and thou hast taken;
Blessed Lord,--thy will be done.
3 Though to-day we're filled with mourning,
Mercy still is on the throne;
With thy smiles of love returning,
We can sing--thy will be done.
4 By thy hands the boon was given,
Thou hast taken but thine own:
Lord of earth, and God of heaven,
Evermore,--thy will be done!
Thomas Hastings.
489 Rest. L.M.
(1077) Sleeping in Jesus.
Asleep in Jesus! blessed sleep,
From which none ever wakes to weep;
A calm and undisturbed repose,
Unbroken by the dread of foes.
2 Asleep in Jesus! peaceful rest,
Whose waking is supremely blest;
No fear, no woes, shall dim the hour,
Which manifests the Savior's power.
3 Asleep in Jesus! oh, for me
May such a blissful refuge be;
Securely shall my ashes lie,
And wait the summons from on high.
4 Asleep in Jesus! far from thee
Thy kindred and their graves may be;
But thine is still a blessed sleep,
From whence none ever wake to weep.
Mrs. Margaret Mackay, 1832.
490 Rest. L.M.
(1078) The End of that Man is Peace.
How blest the righteous when he dies!
When sinks a weary soul to rest!
How mildly beam the closing eyes!
How gently heaves the expiring breast!
2 So fades a summer cloud away;
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day;
So dies a wave along the shore.
3 A holy quiet reigns around,
A calm which life nor death destroys;
And naught disturbs that peace profound
Which his unfettered soul enjoys.
4 Life's labor done, as sinks the clay,
Light from its load the spirit flies,
While heaven and earth combine to say,
How blest the righteous when he dies!
Mrs. A.L. Barbauld, 1773.
491 Rest. L.M.
(1080) Death and Burial of a Christian.
Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb;
Take this new treasure to thy trust
And give these sacred relics room,
To slumber in the silent dust.
2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear,
Invades thy bounds; no mortal woes
Can reach the peaceful sleeper here,
While angels watch the soft repose.
3 So Jesus slept; God's dying Son
Passed through the grave, and blest the bed;
Rest here, blest saint, till from his throne
The morning break, and pierce the shade.
4 Break from his throne, illustrious morn;
Attend, O earth, his sovereign word;
Restore thy trust; a glorious form
Shall then arise to meet the Lord.
Isaac Watts, 1734.
492 Rest. L.M.
(1084) The Fading Flower.
So fades the lovely, blooming flower--
Frail smiling solace of an hour!
So soon our transient comforts fly,
And pleasure only blooms to die.
2 Is there no kind, no lenient art,
To heal the anguish of the heart?
Spirit of grace! be ever nigh,
Thy comforts are not made to die.
3 Bid gentle patience smile on pain,
Till dying hope shall live again;
Hope wipes the tear from sorrow's eye
And faith points upward to the sky.
Anne Steele, 1760
493 China. C.M.
(1067) We Are Confident.
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 Are we not tending upward, too,
As fast as time can move?
Nor would we wish the hours more slow,
To keep us from our love.
3 Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?
There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
And scattered all the gloom.
4 The graves of all the saints be blessed,
And softened every bed;
Where should the dying members rest,
But with the dying Head?
5 Thence he arose, ascending high,
And showed our feet the way;
Up to the Lord we, too, shall fly
At the great rising-day.
6 Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise;
Awake! ye nations under ground;
Ye saints! ascend the skies.
Isaac Watts, 1707.
494 China. C.M.
(1065) Cheerful Submission to Death.
And let this feeble body fail,
And let it faint or die;
My soul shall quit the mournful vale,
And soar to worlds on high--
2 Shall join the disembodied saints,
And find its long-sought rest;
That only bliss for which it pants,
In the Redeemer's breast.
3 In hope of that immortal crown
I now the cross sustain;
And gladly wander up and down,
And smile at toil and pain.
4 I suffer on my three-score years,
Till my Deliverer come,
And wipes away his servant's tears,
And takes his exile home.
Charles Wesley, 1759.
495 China. C.M.
(1066) Mourning with Hope.
Why should our tears in sorrow flow
When God recalls his own,
And bids them leave a world of woe,
For an immortal crown?
2 Is not e'en death a gain to those
Whose life to God was given?
Gladly to earth their eyes they close
To open them in heaven.
3 Their toils are past, their work is done,
And they are fully blest!
They fought the fight, the victory won,
And entered into rest.
4 Then let our sorrows cease to flow,--
God has recalled his own;
But let our hearts, in every woe,
Still say, "Thy will be done!"
Wm. H. Bathurst, 1829.
496 Frederick. 11s.
Death Not Fearful.
I would not live alway; I ask not to stay
Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way;
The few cloudy mornings that dawn on us here
Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer.
2 I would not live alway; no, welcome the tomb!
Since Jesus has lain there, I dread not its gloom;
There sweet be my rest till he bid me arise,
To hail him in triumph descending the skies.
3 Who, who would live alway, away from his God,
Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode,
Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains,
And the noontide of glory eternally reigns;
4 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet,
Their Savior and brethren transported to greet;
While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll,
And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul?
W.A. Muhlenburg.
497 Thy Will Be Done. Chant
Mark 14:36.
"Thy will be | done!" || In devious way
The hurrying stream of | life may | run; ||
Yet still our grateful hearts shall say, |
"Thy will be | done."
2 "Thy will be | done!" || If o'er us shine
A gladdening and a | prosperous | sun, ||
This prayer will make it more divine-- |
"Thy will be | done!"
3 "Thy will be | done!" || Tho' shrouded o'er
Our | path with | gloom, | one comfort, one ||
Is ours:--to breathe, while we adore, |
"Thy will be | done."
Sir. J. Bowring, 1825.
498 Shining Shore. 8s & 7s. Trochaic.
(1146) On Jordan's Strand.
My days are gliding swiftly by,
And I a pilgrim stranger,
Would not detain them as they fly,
Those hours of toil and danger.
CHO.--For, oh! we stand on Jordan's strand,
Our friends are passing over;
And, just before, the shining shore
We may almost discover.
2 We'll gird our loins, my brethren dear!
Our heav'nly home discerning;
Our absent Lord has left us word,--
"Let ev'ry lamp be burning."
3 Should coming days be cold and dark,
We need not cease our singing;
That perfect rest none can molest,
Where golden harps are ringing.
4 Let sorrow's rudest tempest blow,
Each cord on earth to sever;
Our King says,--"Come!" and there's our home,
Forever, oh! forever!
David Nelson, 1835.
499 Shining Shore. 8s & 7s. Trochaic.
(1147) Wayfarers.
Wayfarers in the wilderness,
By morn, and noon, and even,
Day after day, we journey on,
With weary feet toward heaven.
CHO.--O land above! O land of love!
The glory shineth o'er thee;
O Christ, our King! in mercy bring
Us thither, we implore thee!
2 By day the cloud before us goes,
By night the cloud of fire,
To guide us o'er the trackless waste,
To Canaan ever nigher.
3 The sea was riven from our feet,
And so shall be the river;
And, by the King's highway brought home,
We'll praise his name forever:
Alexander R. Thompson, 1869.
500 Nearer Home. 6s.
(1139) A Solemn Thought.
One sweetly solemn thought
Comes to me o'er and o'er;
I'm nearer home to-day
Than e'er I've been before.
CHO.--I'm nearer my home, nearer my home,
Nearer my home to-day;
Yes, nearer my home in heav'n to-day,
Than ever I've been before.
2 Nearer my Father's house
Where the blest mansions be;
Nearer the great white throne,
Nearer the crystal sea;
3 Nearer the bound where we
Must lay our burdens down,
Nearer to leave the cross,
Nearer to gain the crown.
4 The waves of that deep sea
Roll dark before my sight,
But break, the other side,
Upon a shore of light.
5 Oh! if my mortal feet
Have almost gained the brink,
If I am nearer home
To-day than e'en I think,
6 Father! perfect my trust,
That I may rest, in death,
On Christ, my Lord, alone,
And thus resign my breath.
Phœbe Cary, 1852 a.
501 Consolation. P.M.
The Death of a Child.
There is no flock, however watched and tended,
But one dead lamb is there!
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended,
But has one vacant chair!
The air is full of farewells to the dying,
And mournings for the dead;
The heart of Rachel for her children crying
Will not be comforted!
2 Let us be patient, these severe afflictions
Not from the ground arise,
But oftentimes celestial benedictions
Assume this dark disguise.
We see but dimly thro' the mists and vapors,
Amid these earthly damps,
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers,
May be heav'ns distant lamps.
3 She is not dead, the child of our affection,
But gone unto that school
Where she no longer needs our poor protection,
And Christ himself doth rule.
In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion,
By guardian angels led,
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution,
She lives whom we call dead.
4 And tho' at times, impetuous with emotion,
And anguish long suppressed,
The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean
That cannot be at rest:
We will be patient--and assuage the feeling
We cannot wholly stay,
By silence sanctifying, not concealing
The grief that must have way.
Henry W. Longfellow, 1849.
502 Peace, Be Still. P.M.
Submission.
Peace, be still!
In this night of sorrow bow;
Oh, my heart, contend not thou;
What befalls is God's own will;
Peace, be still!
2 Hold thee still!
Tho' the Father scourge thee sore,
Cling thou to him all the more;
Let him mercy's work fulfill;
Hold thee still!
3 Lord, my God!
Give me grace, that I may be
Thy true child, and silently
Own thy scepter and thy rod;
Lord, my God!
4 Shepherd mine!
From thy fullness give me still
Faith to do and bear thy will
Till the morning light shall shine;
Shepherd mine!
Schiller.
503 Rest, Weary Pilgrim. 10s.
Death of a Christian.
Rest, weary pilgrim, thy journey is o'er,
Rest, sweetly rest, on the beautiful shore;
Safely at last thou hast reached the bright goal,
Fatherland, home of the soul.
2 Never again shall thy storm-beaten breast
Sigh, deeply sigh, for the sweet "land of rest;"
Gone to the Savior's bright mansion above,
Rest in the light of his love.
3 Rest, weary pilgrim, thy journey is o'er,
Rest, sweetly rest, on the beautiful shore;
Dangers and troubles shall harm thee no more,
Rest on the beautiful shore.
Maria Straub.
504 As Fade the Stars. P.M.
The Life of the Departed.
As fade the stars at morn away,
Their glory gone in perfect day,
So pass away the friends we love,
Their presence lost in worlds above,
While we o'er their slumbers are weeping.
2 As sink the stars when night is o'er,
To rise upon some other shore,
So sink our precious ones from sight,
In other skies to walk in light,
While we sorrow's vigils are keeping.
3 No more in east, or in the west,
Fade they from sight, or sink to rest;
Fixed firm in that celestial air,
They radiant shine eternal there;
Our hearts up to meet them fond leaping.
J.E. Rankin, D.D.
505 Nettie. 5s & 9s.
Consolation.
Midst sorrow and care
There's one that is near,
And ever delights to relieve us.
2 'Tis Jesus, our Friend,
On whom we depend
For life and for all its rich blessings.
3 When trouble assails,
His love never fails;
He meets us with sweet consolation.
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