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Feel thee near when my feet

Are slipping over the brink;
For it may be I'm nearer home,

Nearer now than I think.

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235 WHEN the world my heart is rending

With its heaviest storm of care; Then my thoughts, to God ascending,

Find a refuge from despair.
There's a hand of mercy near me,

Though the waves of trouble roar;
There's an hour of rest to cheer me,

When the toils of life are o'er.
Oh! to rest in peace for ever,

Join'd with happy souls above; Where no foe my heart can sever

From the Saviour whom I love!
This the hope that shall sustain me,

Till life's pilgrimage is past;
Fears may vex and troubles pain me;

I shall reach my home at last. 236

COW vain is all beneath the skies !

HW !

How slender all the fondest ties,
That bind us to a world like this !
The evening cloud, the morning dew,
The withering grass, the fading flower,
Of earthly hopes are emblems true;
The glory of a passiаg hour.

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But though earth's fairest blossoms die,
And all beneath the skies is vain,
There is a land whose confines lie
Beyond the reach of care and pain.
Then let the hope of joys to come
Dispel our cares and chase our fears;
If God be ours, we're travelling home,

Though passing through a vale of tears. 237

I

With garlands gay, and varied green;
I prais'd the sea, whose ample field
Shone glorious as a silver shield;
And earth and ocean seem'd to say,
Our beauties are but for a day.
I prais'd the sun, whose chariot rollid
On wheels of amber and of gold;
I prais'd the moon, whose softer eye
Gleam'd sweetly through the summer sky;
And moon and sun, in answer, said,
Our days of light are numbered.
O God! O good beyond compare !
If thus thy meaner works are fair;
If thus thy beauties gild the span
Of ruin'd earth and sinful man;
How glorious must the mansion be,

Where thy redeem'd shall dwell with thee! 238

HAVE a home above,

I free;

A mansion which eternal love

Design'd and form’d for me.

My Father's gracious hand

Has built this sweet abode ;
From everlasting it was plann'd;

My dwelling-place with God.
My Saviour's precious blood

Has made my title sure :
He pass'd through death's dark raging flood,

To make my rest secure.
The Comforter is come,

The earnest has been given ;
He leads me onward to the home

Reserv'd for me in heaven.
Loved ones are gone before,

Whose pilgrim days are done;
I soon shall greet them on that shore

Where partings are unknown.
239
NHEN this passing world is done,

When has sunk yon glaring sun,
When we stand with Christ in glory,
Looking o'er life's finish'd story,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know,
Not till then, how much I owe.
When I hear the wicked call
On the rocks and hills to fall,
When I see them start and shrink
On the fiery deluge brink,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know,
Not till then, how much I owe.
When I stand before the throne,
Dress'd in beauty not my own,
When I see thee as thou art,

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Love thee with unsinning heart,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know,
Not till then, how much I owe.
When the praise of heaven I hear,
Loud as thunders to the ear,
Loud as many waters' noise,
Sweet as harp's melodious voice,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know,
Not till then, how much I owe.
Chosen not for good in me,
Waken'd up from wrath to flee,
Hidden in the Saviour's side,
By the Spirit sanctified,
Teach me, Lord, on earth to shew,
By my love, how much I owe.
Oft I walk beneath the cloud,
Dark as midnight's gloomy shroud;
But when fear is at the height,
Jesus comes, and all is light;
Blessed Jesus! bid me shew

Doubting saints how much I owe. 240

JHERE is an hour when I must part

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And life, with its best hopes, will then

As nothingness appear.
There is an hour when I must sink

Beneath the stroke of death;
And yield to him who gave it first,

My struggling vital breath.

There is an hour when I must stand

Before the judgment-seat;
And all my sins, and all my foes,

In awful vision meet.
There is an hour when I must look

On one eternity;
And nameless woe, or blissful life,

My endless portion be.
O Saviour, then, in all my need,

Be near, be near to me;
And let my soul, by stedfast faith,

Find life and heaven in thee.

241

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Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts,

That finds not here an end :
Were this frail world our final rest,
Living or dying, none were blest.
Beyond the flight of time,
Beyond this

vale of death,
There surely is some blessed clime,

Where life is not a breath;
Nor life's affections, transient fire,
Whose sparks fly upward and expire!
There is a world above,

Where parting is unknown;
A whole eternity of love,

Form'd for the good alone;
And faith beholds the dying here,
Translated to that happier sphere.

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