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447. C. M. TATE & BRADY.
Man frail, and God eternal. Ps. 90. 1 O LORD, the saviour and defence
Of us thy chosen race,
Our sure abiding place. 2 Before thou brought'st the mountains forth,
Or earth received its frame,
And ever art the same.
Of which he first was made; And when thou speak’st the word, Return,
'Tis instantly obeyed.
Are like a day that's past,
Whose hours unminded waste.
Of our short days to mind,
May ever be inclined.
448. C. M. WATTS,
Our Bodies frail, and God our Preserver.
Nor death nor danger fear;
What feeble things we are.
2 Fresh as the grass our bodies stand,
And flourish bright and gay;
And fades the grass away.
And dies, if one be gone; Strange! that a harp of thousand strings
Should keep in tune so long. 4 But 't is our God supports our frame,
The God who built is first; Salvation to the Almighty Name
That reared us from the dust. 5 While we have breath, or use our tongues,
Our Maker we'll adore;
Or they would breathe no more.
449. C. M. WATTS.
Frail Life, and succeeding Eternity. 1 Thee we adore, Eternal Name,
And humbly own to thee
What dying worms are we!
As months and days increase;
Leaves but the number less.
The breath that first it gave;
4 Dangers stand thick through all the ground,
To push us to the tomb;
To hurry mortals home.
To walk this dangerous road; And, if our souls are hurried hence,
May they be found with God.
450. C. M.
Who can prevent or cure ?
When most we seem secure.
It soon may be withdrawn;
Before to-morrow's dawn.
And find an easy prey ;
Takes wings and flies away. 4 The gourds from which we look for fruit,
Produce us often pain;
And all our hopes are vain.
And creatures fade and die;
And fix our hopes on high !
451. L. M. WATTS.
Death a Blessing to the Righteous. 1 Do flesh and nature dread to die?
And timorous thoughts our minds enslave? But grace can raise our hopes on high,
And quell the terrors of the grave. 2 Do we not dwell in clouds below,
And little know the God we love?
3 When we put off this fleshly load,
We're from a thousand mischiefs free,
Where we have longed and wished to be. 4 No more shall pride or passion rise,
Or envy fret, or malice roar,
And sin defile our eyes no more.
tempters cannot come, Where saints and angels, ever blest,
Dwell and enjoy their heavenly home. 6 O for a visit from my God,
To drive my fears of death away,
452. C. M. WATTS.
Triumphant over Death.
And nature must decay;
To dwell with fellow clay.
And trample on the tombs;
My God, my Saviour comes.
High on a royal seat,
Lie vanquished at his feet.
453. L. M. BROWNE.
Fear of Death overcome.
Lord, help me to surmount the fear;
Serene my summons I may hear.
In me let every sin be slain;
From wilful sins my hands restrain. 3 May I, my God, with holy zeal,
Closely the ends of life pursue,