Then this vile and sinful nature,
Incorruption shall put on,
Life renewing, glorious Saviour!
Let thy gracious will be done.

284. On the Death of a Believer. (P.M.)

1

HOSAN

OSANNA to Jesus on high!
Another has enter'd his rest;
Another escap'd to the sky,

And lodg'd in Immanuel's breast ;
The soul of our brother* is gone,
To heighten the triumph above;
Exalted to Jesus's throne,
Exalted by Jesus's love.

2 How happy the angels that fall,
Transported, at Jesus's name;

The saints whom he soonest shall call,
To share in the feast of the Lamb!
No longer imprison'd in clay,

Who next from his dungeon shall fly?
Who first shall be summon'd away?
My merciful God-Is it I?

30 Jesus! if this be thy will,
That suddenly I should depart,
Thy counsel of mercy reveal,
And whisper the call to my heart :
O give me a signal to know,

If soon thou would'st have me to move,
And leave the dull body below,

And fly to the regions of love.

• Or, sister.

HOW blest is our brother,* bereft

Of all that could burden his mind!

How easy the soul that hath left
This wearisome body behind;
Of evil incapable thou,

Whose relicks with envy I see!
No longer in misery now,
No longer a sinner like me.

? This earth is affected no more,
With sickness, or shaken with pain:
The war in the members is o'er,
And never shall vex him again :
No anger henceforward, or shame,
Shall redden this innocent clay,
Extinct is the animal flame,
And passion has vanish'd away.
This languishing head is at rest,
Its thinking and aching are o'er;
This quiet, immoveable breast
Is heav'd by affliction no more;
This heart is no longer the seat,
Of trouble, and torturing pain;
It ceases to flutter and beat,
It never shall flutter again.

4 The lids, that he seldom could close,
By sorrow forbidden to sleep,
Now seal'd in a blessed repose,
Shall open-but never to weep;

* Or, sister.

These fountains can yield no supplies,
These hollows from water are free;
The tears are all wip'd from these eyes,
And evil they never shall see.

5 To mourn and to suffer is mine,
While bound in a prison I breathe,
And still for deliv'rance pine,
And press to the issues of death:
What now with my tears I bedew,
O might I this moment become,
My spirit created anew,

Mo flesh be consign'd to the tomb.

286. Comfort under the Loss of Ministers. Josh. i. 2, 4, 5. (C. M.)

1

Now

OW let our mourning hearts revive,
And all our tears be dry;

Why should those eyes be drown'd in grief,
Which view a Saviour nigh?

2 What tho' the arm of conqu'ring death,
Does God's own house invade?
What tho' the prophet, and the priest,
Be number'd with the dead?

3 Tho' carthly shepherds dwell in dust,
The aged, and the young,

The watchful eye in darkness clos'd,
And mute th' instructive tongue.

4 Th' eternal Shepherd still survives,
New comfort to impart;

His eye still guides us, and his voice,
Still animates our heart.

"Lo, I am with you," saith the Lord, "My church shall safe abide; "For I will ne'er forsake my own, Whose souls in me confide."

6 Thro' every scene of life and death, This promise is our trust;

And this shall be our children's song, When we are cold in dust.

7. Peaceful View of Futurity. (C.M.) AT thy command I meekly yield My body to the dust;

Jesus, I trust in thee alone,

And know in whom I trust.

Fix thou the time. The time is fixt,
In the divine decree;

Call, when the time is fully come,
And I will answer thee.

My flesh and soul I give to thee,
In their united state;

And is it more to trust thee, Lord,
With each, when separate?

I claim thy promise, here below,

To come and dwell with me; And why not trust the word that says, "Where I am, thou shalt be?"

Thy glorious angels stood prepar'd,
Soon as the beggar died,

His parting spirit to convey,
To faithful Abram's side.

6 In all my ways, those morning stars,
Have been my daily guard;

And will they not, when loos'd from clay,
Direct me to my Lord?

7 Soon as pale death hath clos'd my eyes, Those radiant sons of light

Are present to my mental view,
O what a joyful sight!

8 They'll bear me up, in friendly hands,
To regions yet unknown,
And wafted o'er ethereal seas,
Safe land me near thy throne.

9 How glorious is thy gift of faith,
That cheers the darksome tomb,
And through the damp of noisome grave
Can shed a rich perfume?

10 Precious the faith that lifts the soul,
Above desponding fear,

Joyful in hope of heav'n her home,
And longing to be there.

288. Happiness of the Righteous after Death. (P.

1

WHE

HEN Jesus calls, by death,
His saints from earth away;

How nature fears to tread the path,
To endless day.

The spirit longs to soar

To the bright world above,

And tread upon that heav'nly shore,
Where all is love!