3 Their holy souls, at length releas'd, They drop each load as they ascend, 5 Their conflicts with their busy foes 6 But bright rewards shall recompense And perfect love shall banish thence 723. 1 THE L. M. The grave. Job iii. 17. HE grave is now a favour'd spot,- For there the wicked trouble not, And there the weary are at rest. 2 At rest in Jesus' faithful arms; At rest as in a peaceful bed; Secure from all the dreadful storms, Which round this sinful world are spread. before 3 Thrice happy souls, who're gone Then let our mournful tears be dry, 5. DEATH OF THE WICKED. L. M. 724. The Death of the Sinner and the Saint 1 WHAT scenes of horror and of dread Await the sinner's dying bed! Death's terrors all appear in sight, 2 His sins in dreadful order rise, 3 Tormenting pangs distract his breast; Not so the heir of heavenly bliss:- 5 His mind is tranquil and serene; 6 Lord! make my faith and love sincere, C. M. 725. Death dreadful or delightful. 1 Do those that have no God, EATH! 'tis a melancholy day When the poor soul is forc'd away 2 In vain to heaven she lifts her eyes Still drags her downward from the skies To darkness, fire, and pain. 3 Awake, and mourn, ye heirs of hell, Let stubborn sinners fear; You must be driv'n from earth, and dwell A long for ever there. 4 See how the pit gapes wide for you, And flashes in your face! And thou, my soul, look downwards too, And sing recovering grace. 5 Ile is a God of boundless love That promis'd heaven to me, And taught my thoughts to soar above, 6 Prepare me, Lord, for thy right hand, Come, death, and some celestial band, 726. C. M. The Death of a Sinner. 1 MY thoughts on awful subjects roll, Damnation and the dead: What horrors seize the guilty soul 2 Lingering about these mortal shores 3 Then swift and dreadful she descends Amongst abominable fiends, There endless crowds of sinners lie, 5 Not all their anguish and their blood Shall hearken to their groans. 6 Amazing grace, that kept my breath, Nor bid my soul remove, Till I had learn'd my Saviour's death, 1 No, I'll repine at death no more; Break, sacred morning! through the skies, 4 Haste, then, upon the wings of love, 728. WE (497.) L. M. WHAT sinners value, I resign: I shall behold thy blissful face, And stand complete in righteousness. 2 This life's a dream, an empty show; 3 O glorious hour! O blest abode.! 4 My flesh shall slumber in the ground, Then burst the chains with swee: surprise 729. C. M. Hope in the Resurrection. 1 THROUGH sorrow's night and danger's pat2, Amid the deepening gloom, We soldiers of an injur'd King Are marching to the tomb. 2 There, when the turmoil is no more, Our cold remains in solitude 3 Our labours done, securely laid 4 Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane, For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise 5 These ashes too, this little dust, |