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602. L. M.

WATTS.

At a Funeral.
1 UNVEIL thy bosom, faithful tomb !

Take this new treasure to thy trust,
And give these sacred relics room

To seek a slumber in thy dust.
2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear

Invade thy bounds; no mortal woes
Can reach the peaceful sleeper here,

While angels watch its soft repose. 3 So Jesus slept; God's dying Son

Passed through the grave, and blessed the

bed;

Then rest, dear saint, till from his throne

The morning break, and pierce the shade. 4 Break from his throne, illustrious morn!

Attend, O earth, his sovereign word !
Restore thy trust! the glorious form
Shall then arise, to meet the Lord.

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• 603. P. M. MILMAN.

At a Funeral.
1 Brother, thou art gone before us,

And thy saintly soul is flown
Where tears are wiped from every eye,

And sorrow is unknown:
From the burden of the flesh,

And from care and fear released, Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.

2 Sin can never taint thee now,

Nor doubt thy faith assail,
Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ

And the Holy Spirit fail :
And there thou’rt sure to meet the good,

Whom on earth thou lovedst best,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.
3 "Earth to earth," and "dust to dust,"

The solemn priest hath said;
So we lay the turf above thee now,

And we seal thy narrow bed :
But thy spirit, brother ! soars away

Among the faithful blest,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.

604. L. M. SIR WALTER Scott.

The Last Day.
1 That day of wrath, that dreadful day,

When heaven and earth shall pass away,
What power shall be the sinner's stay?

How shall he meet that dreadful day? 2 When, shrivelling like a parched scroll,

The flaming heavens together roll,
When louder yet, and yet more dread,

Swells the high trump that wakes the dead ! 3 Oh, on that day, that wrathful day,

When man to judgment wakes from clay,
Be Thou the trembling sinner's stay,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away.

605. 78. M.

WILLARD'S COL
Peacemakers are Children of God.
1 Lo, they come from east and west;

Come to enjoy the heavenly rest :
North and south, in bliss coinplete,

Round the eternal altar meet. 2 Countless host ! how great! how blest !

Wondrous joy, and peace, and rest !
What shall fit us, Lord, for this ?

Fit our souls for heavenly bliss ? 3 Peace on earth, and peace alone;

Peace, which makes all churches one;
Peace, the fruit of Christian love,
Fits the soul for peace above.

606. C. M. WATTS.

Death of Kindred improved. 1 Must friends and kindred drop and die?

Must helpers be withdrawn? While sorrow, with a weeping eye,

Counts up our comforts goue?
2 Be thou our comfort, mighty God,

Our helper and our friend;
Nor leave us, in this dangerous road,

Till all our trials end.
3 O may our feet pursue the way

Our pious fathers led !
While love and holy zeal obey

The counsels of the dead.

4 Let us be weaned from all below;

Let hope our grief dispel;
Death will invite our souls to go

Where our best kindred dwell.

607. C. M. CowPER..

Walking with God. 1 O FOR a closer walk with God,

A calm and heavenly frame, A light to shine upon the road

That leads me to the Lamb!

2 What peaceful hours I once enjoyed ! How sweet their

memory

still! But they have left an aching void

The world can never fill.

3 Return, O holy Dove, return,

Sweet messenger of rest;
I hate the sins that made thee mourn,

And drove thee from my breast.

4 The dearest idol I have known,

Whate'er that idol be,
Help me to tear it from thy throne,

And worship only thee. 5 So shall my walk be close with God,

Calm and serene my frame;
So purer light shall mark the road

T'hat leads me to the Lainb.

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608. C. M. WATTS.

Victory orer Death. 1 O FOR an overcoming faith,

To cheer my dying hours,
To triumph o'er the monster Death,

And all his frightful powers !
2 Joyful, with all the strength I have,

My quivering lips should sing, “Where is thy boasted victory, grave?

And where the monster's sting?" 3 Now to the God of victory

Immortal thanks be paid,
Who makes us conquerors while we die,

Through Christ, our living Head.

609. 8 & 7s. M. BICKERSTETH.

Closing Hymn. 1 Israel's Shepherd, guide me, feed me,

Throngh my pilgrimage below,
And beside the waters lead me,

Where thy flock rejoicing go.
2 Lord, thy guardian presence ever,

Meekly kneeling, I implore;
I have found thee, and would never,

Never wander from thee more.

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