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Yet is His house and heart so large,
That millions more may come !
Nor could the wide o'erspreading world
O'erfill the spacious room.

All things are ready; come away,
Nor weak excuses frame :

Crowd to your places at the feast,
And bless the Founder's name.

DEATH.

HYMN 41.

AT anchor laid, remote from home,
Toiling, I cry, sweet Spirit, come !
"Celestial breeze, no longer stay,
"But swell my sails, and speed my way!

"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,
To dwell with fellow-clay.

Yet faith may triumph o'er the grave,
And trample on the tombs ;
For Jesus, my Redeemer, lives;
My God, my Saviour, comes.

The mighty Conqu❜ror shall appear
High on a royal seat,

And death, the last of all His foes,
Lie vanquish'd at His feet.

HYMN 43.

HEAV'N hath confirm'd the great decree, That Adam's race must die

;

One gen❜ral ruin sweeps them down,
And low in dust they lie.

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,
Must pass His scrutiny.

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,
A lasting, heav'nly home,
And here my watching spirit stands,
Till God shall bid it come.

Shortly this prison of my clay
Must be dissolv'd and fall :

Then, O my soul! with joy obey
Thy heav'nly Father's call.

'Tis He, by His Almighty grace,
That forms thee fit for heav'n;
And, as an earnest of the place,
Has His own Spirit giv'n.

We walk by faith of joys to come;
Faith lives upon His word;
But while the body is our home,
We're absent from the Lord.

'Tis pleasant to believe Thy grace,
But we had rather see ;

We would be absent from the flesh,
And present, Lord, with Thee.

HYMN 45.

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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,
Or shake at death's alarms ?
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to His arms!

Are we not tending upward too

As fast as time can move?

Nor should we wish the hours more slow
To keep us from our love.

Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb ?
There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
And left a sweet perfume.

The graves of all His saints are bless'd
And soften'd ev'ry bed:

Where should the dying members rest, But with their dying Head?

HYMN 47.

HARK! a voice divides the sky,—
Happy are the faithful dead!
In the Lord who sweetly die,
They from all their toils are freed.
Them the Spirit hath declared
Blest, unutterably blest :
Jesus is their great reward,
Jesus is their endless rest.

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,
Place him at the Saviour's feet:

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