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4 Let all my bliss and treasure lie

Where in thy light I light shall see;
The soul may freely dare to die,

That longs to be possessed of thee.
5 Say thou art mine, and chase the gloom

Thick hanging o'er the vale of death;
Then shall I fearless meet my dooin,
And as a victor yield my breath.

454. 11s. M. EPISCOPAL COL.

I would not live alway. 1 I would not live alway: I ask not to stay Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the

way: I would not live alway: no, welcome the tomb,

Since Jesus hath lain there, I dread not its gloom. 2 Who, who would live alway, away from his God,

Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode ! Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright

plains, And the noontide of glory eternally reigns; 3 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet,

Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet; While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, And the smile of the Lord is the life of the soul !

455. C. M. DODDRIDGE.

God our Support in Death. Ps. 38.
1 My soul ! the awful hour will come,

Apace it hastens on,
To bear this body to the tomb,
And thee to scenes unknown.

2 My heart, long laboring with its cares,

Shall pant and sink away;
And you, mine eyelids, soon shall close,

On the last gliminering ray.
3 Whence in that hour shall I derive

A cordial for my pain,
When, if earth's monarchs were my friends,

Those friends would weep in vain ? 4 Great King of nature and of grace !

To thee my spirit flies,
And opens all its deep distress

Before thy pitying eyes.
5 All its desires to thee are known,

And every secret fear;
The meaning of each broken groan

Is noticed by thine ear.
6 O fix me by that mighty power

Which to such love belongs,
Where darkness veils the eyes no more,

And sighs are changed to songs.

WATTS.

456. C. M.

Submission to afflictive Providences.
1 Naked as from the earth we came,

And crept to life at first,
We to the earth return again,

And mingle with our dust.
2 The dear delights we here enjoy,

And fondly call our own,
Are but short favors borrowed now,

To be repaid anon.

3 'Tis God that lifts our comforts high,

Or sinks them in the grave;
He gives, and, blessed be his name!

He takes but what he gave.
4 Peace, all our angry passions, then;

Let each rebellious sigh
Be silent at his sovereign will,

And every murmur die.
5 If smiling mercy crown our lives,

Its praises shall be spread;
And we'll adore the justice too

That strikes our coinforts dead.

457. L. M. DODDRIDGE.

Weeping Seed-lime, joyful Harvest. Ps. 128. 1 The darkened sky, how thick it lowers !

Troubled with storms, and big with showers; No cheerful gleam of light appears,

But nature pours forth all her tears. 2 Yet, let the sons of grace revive;

God bids the soul that seeks him live;
And from the gloomiest shade of night

Calls forth a morning of delight. 3 The seeds of ecstasy unknown

Are in these watered furrows sown;
See the green blades, how thick they rise,

And with fresh verdure bless our eyes. 4 In secret foldings they contain

Unnumbered ears of golden grain;
And heaven shall pour its beams around,
Till the ripe harvest load the ground.

6 Then shall the trembling mourner come,

And bind his sheaves, and bear them home; The voice long broke with sighs shall sing, Till heaven with hallelujahs ring.

458. 8, 7 & 4s. M. MRS. GILBERT.

Support in Death.
1 When the vale of death appears,

Faint and cold this mortal clay,
O my Father, soothe my fears,
Light me through this darksome way:

Break the shadows,

Usher in eternal day.
2 Starting from this dying state,

Upward bid my soul aspire;
Open thou the crystal gate,
To thy praise attune my lyre:

Dwell forever,

Dwell on each immortal wire. 3 From the sparkling turrets there,

Oft I'll trace my pilgrim way,
Often bless thy guardian care,
Fire by night, and cloud by day;

While my triumphs
At my Leader's feet I lay.

459. C. M. DODDRIDGE.

God the everlasting Light.
1 Ye golden lamps of heaven! farewell,

With all your feeble light:
Farewell, thou ever-changing moon,

Pale empress of the night!

2 And thou, refulgent orb of day!

In brighter flames arrayed, My soul, wbich springs beyond thy sphere,

No more demands thine aid.
3 Ye stars are but the shining dust

Of my divine abode,
The pavement of those heavenly courts,

Where I shall reign with God. 4 The Father of eternal light

Shall there his beams display;
Nor shall one mornent's darkness mix

With that un varied day.
5 No more the drops of piercing grief

Shall swell into mine eyes ;
Nor the meridian sun decline,

Amid those brighter skies.
6 There all the millions of his saints

Shall in one song unite;
And each the bliss of all shall view

With infinite delight.

460. L. M. S. WESLEY.

The Young cut off in their Prime. 1 The morning flowers display their sweets,

And gay, their silken leaves unfold,
As careless of the noontide heats,

As fearless of the evening cold.
2 Nipt by the wind's untimely blast,

Parched by the sun's directer ray,
The momentary glories waste,
The short-lived beauties die away.

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