2 What if the Lord in wrath declare, 3 'Tis dangerous to provoke our God; Can send young sinners quick to hell. 4 Then 'twill for ever be in vain 262 THAT. awful hour will soon appear; Swift on the wings of time it flies; When all that pains or pleases here Will vanish from my closing eyes. 2 Death calls my friends, my neighbours hence, 3 Think, O my soul! how much depends 4 Lord of my life, inspire my heart With heavenly ardour, grace divine; For strength, and life, and death, are thine. S. M. 263 ΜΥ Life is a Span. life's a narrow span, I may, for aught I know, This hour the summons hear, Teach me, with all my heart, May I from every sin depart, 264 Delay not Repentance. 'TIS a folly and a crime For now is the accepted time, 2 Our hearts grow harder every day, 3 Yet sinners trifle, young and old, C. M Then they would give a world of gold To have an hour to pray. 10 then, lest we should perish thus, For time will soon be past with us, 265 THE Frailty. lilies of the field, 2 Just like an early rose, I've seen an infant bloom: S. M. Then let us think on death, 4 To God, who made them all, SICKNESS. 266 1 Hope in Sickness. "TIS sweet to rest in lively hope, C. M. That, when my change shall come Angels will hover round my bed, There shall my disembodied soul Be with his likeness satisfied, 3 Soon, too, my slumbering dust shall hear 4 If such the views which grace unfolds, What raptures must the blest above, 267 AL For a sick Child. LMIGHTY God! I'm very ill, L. M. For thou canst take away my pain, ? Let me be patient all the day, And mind what those who nurse me say; 268 Recovery from Sickness. 'I C. M. THANK the Lord who lives on high, And healed me that I should not dic, 20 let me love and serve thee, too, And every evil thing I do, 269 Teacher's Illness. L. M. THOU, before whose gracious throne Regard our simple earnest prayer, 2 Prese ve thy servant from the grave; 3 Yet if our supplications fail, And prayers and tears cannot prevail DEATH. 270 'TIS IS Jesus speaks! I fold, says he, 2 Death may the bands of life unloose, Millions of infant souls compose The family above. 3 Their feeble frames my power shall raise, And mould with heavenly skill; I'll give them tongues to sing my praise, And hands to do my will. |