2 I could renounce my all below,
If my Creator bid,

And run if I were called to go,
And die as Moses did.

3 Might I but climb to Pisgah's top,
And view the promised land,
My flesh itself should long to drop,
And pray for the command.

4 Clasped in my heavenly Father's arms
I would forget my breath,
And lose my life among the charms
Of so divine a death.

508

L. M.

Courage in Death. Ps. 16.

WATTS.

1 WHEN God is nigh, my faith is strong;
His arm is my almighty prop;
Be glad, my heart, rejoice, my tongue;
My dying flesh shall rest in hope.

2 Though in the dust I lay my head,
Yet, gracious God, thou wilt not leave
My soul forever with the dead,

Nor lose thy children in the grave.

3 My flesh shall thy first call obey,
Shake off the dust, and rise on high;
Then shalt thou lead the wondrous way
Up to thy throne above the sky.

34*

401

1 AND must this body die,

This mortal frame decay?

WATTS.

And must these active limbs of mine
Lie mouldering in the clay?

2 Corruption, earth, and worms
Shall but refine this flesh,
Till my triumphant spirit comes
To put it on afresh.

3 God, my Redeemer, lives,

And often from the skies
Looks down, and watches all my dust,
Till he shall bid it rise.

4 Arrayed in glorious grace

Shall these vile bodies shine,
And every shape and every face
Look heavenly and divine.

402

510

SECTION III.

FUTURITY.

C. M.

SCOTCH PARAPHRASES.

Victory through Christ over Death. 1 Cor. xv.

1 WHEN the last trumpet's awful voice This rending earth shall shake,

When opening graves shall yield their charge, And dust to life awake,

2 Those bodies that corrupted fell
Shall incorrupted rise,

And mortal forms shall spring to life
Immortal in the skies.

3 Behold, what heavenly prophets sung
Is now at last fulfilled;

That Death should yield his ancient reign,
And, vanquished, quit the field.

4 Let Faith exalt her joyful voice,

And thus begin to sing:

"O grave, where is thy triumph now? And where, O death, thy sting?"

511

L. M. 6L.

WATTS.

Life, Death, and the Resurrection. Ps. 89. 1 THINK, mighty God, on feeble manHow few his hours, how short his span!

Short from the cradle to the grave:
Who can secure his vital breath
Against the bold demands of Death,
With skill to fly, or power to save ?

2 Lord, shall it be forever said,
"The race of man was only made

For sickness, sorrow, and the dust"?
Are not thy servants, day by day,
Sent to their graves, and turned to clay?
Lord, where's thy kindness to the just?

3 Hast thou not promised to thy Son,
And all his seed, a heavenly crown?
But flesh and sense indulge despair:
Forever blessed be the Lord,

That faith can read his holy word,
And find a resurrection there.

512

C. M.

WATTS.

A Prospect of the Resurrection.

1 HOW long shall Death, the tyrant, reign, And triumph o'er the just,

While the rich blood of martyrs slain
Lies mingled with the dust?

2 Let faith arise, and climb the hills,
And from afar descry

How distant are his chariot wheels,
And tell how fast they fly.

3 Lo, I behold the scattering shades;
The dawn of heaven appears ;
The sweet, immortal morning spreads
Its blushes round the spheres.

4 I see the Lord of glory come,
And flaming guards around;
The skies divide to make him room,
The trumpet shakes the ground.

5 I hear the voice, "Ye dead, arise;"
And, lo, the graves obey,

And waking saints, with joyful eyes,
Salute the expected day.

513

S. M.

DODDRIDGE.

God quickening the Dead.

1 THE ever-living God

The expiring church shall raise;
Our hearts his promises receive,
And wake a shout of praise.

2 "Yes," saith the God of truth,
"My dead shall live again;

The foe shall see their Leader's breath
Reanimate the slain.

3 "The dew of heaven shall fall

In rich abundance round,

And a redundant harvest rise

To clothe the teeming ground."

4 Thy Zion, Lord, believes

A promise so divine,

And looks through all her flowing tears,
To see the glory shine.