Yet is His house and heart so large, All things are ready; come away, Crowd to your places at the feast, DEATH. HYMN 41. AT anchor laid, remote from home, "Fain would I mount, fain would I glow, "And loose my cable from below; "But I can only spread my sail ; "Thou, Thou must breathe th' auspicious gale." HYMN 42. GREAT GOD, I own Thy sentence just, And nature must decay : I yield my body to the dust, Yet faith may triumph o'er the grave, The mighty Conqu❜ror shall appear And death, the last of all His foes, HYMN 43. HEAV'N hath confirm'd the great decree, That Adam's race must die ; One gen❜ral ruin sweeps them down, Ye living men, survey the tomb, : Where you must quickly dwell Hark, how the awful summons sounds In every funeral knell. Once you must die—and once for all, The solemn purport weigh; For know, that heaven or hell depends, On that important day. Those eyes, though long in darkness veil'd, Must wake, the Judge to see ; And ev'ry deed, and word, and thought, May we in Thee, the Judge, behold, Our Saviour and our Friend; And far above the reach of death, With all Thy saints ascend. F HYMN 44. THERE is a house not made with hands, Shortly this prison of my clay Then, O my soul! with joy obey 'Tis He, by His Almighty grace, We walk by faith of joys to come; 'Tis pleasant to believe Thy grace, We would be absent from the flesh, HYMN 45. THOU art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee, Tho' sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb, The Saviour has pass'd through its portals before thee, And the lamp of His love is thy guide through the gloom. 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, since the Sinless has died. Thou art gone to the grave,—and its mansion forsaking, Perhaps thy tried spirit in doubt linger'd long; But the sunshine of heaven beam'd bright on thy waking, And the song which thou heard'st, was the seraphims' song. Thou art gone to the grave, but 'twere wrong to deplore thee, When God was thy Ransom, thy Guardian, thy Guide; He gave thee, and took thee, and soon will restore thee, Where death hath no sting, since the Saviour hath died. HYMN 46. WHY do ye mourn departing friends, Are we not tending upward too As fast as time can move? Nor should we wish the hours more slow Why should we tremble to convey The graves of all His saints are bless'd Where should the dying members rest, But with their dying Head? HYMN 47. HARK! a voice divides the sky,— Follow'd by their works, they go Where their Head hath gone before ; Reconcil'd by grace below, Grace had open'd Mercy's door; Justified through faith alone, Here they knew their sins forgiven; Here they laid their burthen down, Hallow'd, and made meet for heaven. Born into the world above, Saints their happy brother greet: Bear him to the throne of love, |