2 Are we not tending upward too, As fast as time can move? Why should we wish the hours more slow, 3 Why should we tremble to convey There the dear flesh of Jesus lay, 4 The graves of all his saints He bless'd, Where should the dying members rest, 5 Thence He arose, ascending high, 378 L. M. Asleep in Jesus. John xi, 11. 1 Thess. iv, 14. 1 ASLEEP in Jesus! blessed sleep! Unruffled by the last of foes! G G 2 Asleep in Jesus! peaceful rest! 3 Asleep in Jesus! oh! how sweet 4 Asleep in Jesus! oh! for me May such a blissful slumber be! Securely shall my ashes lie, Waiting the summons from on high. 379 P.M. Comfort when Christian friends depart. 1 Cor. xv, 19-22, 55-57. 1 THOU art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb; Thy Saviour has pass'd through its portals before thee, And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom. 2 Thou art gone to the grave! we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may hope, for the Sinless has died. 3 Thou art gone to the grave! and, its mansion forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in fear linger'd long; But the mild rays of Paradise beam'd on thy waking, And the sound, which thou heard'st, was the Seraphim's song. 4 Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee, Whose God was thy Ransom, thy Guardian, and Guide; He gave thee, He took thee, and He will restore thee; And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died. 380 C. M. The soul's rapturous entrance into glory. 1 IN VAIN our fancy strives to paint The glories that surround the saints 2 One gentle sigh their fetters breaks; Her mansion near the throne. 8 Faith strives, but all its efforts fail, 4 Thus much-and this is all-we know, Have done with care, and sin, and woe, 5 On harps of gold they praise his Name, Then let us follow'rs be of them, 381 L. M. Submission. 1 Sam. iii, 18. Job 1, 20, 21; xili, 15. 1 WAIT, O my soul! thy Maker's will; And, by his saints it stands confess'd, 4 Wait then, my soul, submissive wait, 382 Ps. xc, 12. A warning from the tomb. Matt. xxiv, 42-44. 1 WHEN youth or age is snatch'd away Our hearts the mournful tribute pay, C. M. |