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Our father's house, our heavenly home!
Where "many mansions" stand,
Prepared by hands divine, for all
Who seek the " better land."

2 When tossed upon the waves of life,
With fear on every side,

When fiercely howls the gathering storm,
And foams the angry tide,—
Beyond the storm, beyond the gloom,
Breaks forth the light of morn,
Bright beaming from our Father's house,
To cheer the soul forlorn.

3 In that pure home of tearless joy,
Earth's parted friends shall meet,
With smiles of love that never fade,
And blessedness complete;

There, there adieus are sounds unknown,
Death frowns not on that scene;
But life, and glorious beauty shine,
Untroubled and serene.

285.

C. M.

MRS. STEELL.

1 LIFE is a span, fleeting hour,
How soon the vapor flies!
Man is a tender transient flower,
That in the blooming dies.

2 The once loved form, now cold and dead,
Each mournful thought employs;

And nature weeps her comforts fled,
And withered all her joys.

3 But hope transcends the bounds of time,
When what we now deplore
Shall rise in full immortal prime,
And bloom to fade no, more.

4 Then cease, fond nature, dry thy tears,
Religion points on high;
There everlasting Spring appears,
And joys that never die.

286.

C. M.

WATTS.

1 WHY do we mourn departing friends? Or shake at death's alarms?

'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends

To call them to his arms.

2 Are we not tending upwards too, As fast as time can move?

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Nor would we wish the hours more slow,
To keep us from his love.

3 Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?

There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
And left a long perfume.

4 The graves of all his saints he blessed,
And softened ev'ry bed :

Where should the dying members rest,
But with their dying head?

287..

11s. M.

EPISCOPAL COL.

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! [plains, Where the rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright And the noon-tide of glory eternally reigns;

3 Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, Their Savior and brethren transported to greet; While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, And the smile of the Lord is the life of the soul.

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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 comforts dead.

WATTS.

289.

L. M.

W. BOSTON COL.

1 WHY weep for those, frail child of woe,
Who've fled and left thee mourning here!
Triumphant o'er their latest foe,
They glory in a higher sphere.

2 Weep not for them; beside thee now
Perhaps they watch with guardian care,
And witness tears that idly flow

O'er those who bliss of angels share.

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3 Or round their Father's throne above, With raptured voice, his praise they sing, Or on his messages of love

They journey with unwearied wing.

4 Space cannot check, thought cannot bound
The high exulting souls whom He,

Who formed these million worlds around,
Takes to his own eternity.

290.

E

11s. & 8s. T. K. HERVEY.

1 We know thou hast gone to the home of thy rest, Then why should our souls be so sad;

We know thou hast gone where the weary are blest, And the mourner looks up and is glad;

Where love hath put off in the land of its birth, The stain it had gathered in this;

And Hope, the sweet singer that gladdened the Lies asleep in the bosom of bliss. [earth,

2 We know thou hast gone where thy forehead is With the beauty that dwelt in thy soul-[starr'd Where the light of thy loveliness cannot be marr'd, Nor thy heart be turned back from its goal;

We know thou hast drank of the water that flows
Through a land where they do not forget;
Which sheds over Memory only repose,
And takes from it only regret.

291.

8s. & 6s.

W. B. TAPPAN.

1 THERE is an hour of peaceful rest,
To mourning wand'rers given,
There is a tear for souls distrest,
A balm for every wounded breast;
'Tis found above, in heaven.

2 There is a home for weeping souls,
By sin and sorrow driven,

When tossed on life's tempestuous shore,
Where storms arise and oceans roar ;
But all is o'er in heaven.

3 Now faith lifts up the tearful eye,
The heart with anguish riven,
And views the tempest passing by,
The evening shadows quickly fly,
And all serene in heaven.

4 There fragrant flowers immortal bloom,
And joys supreme are given,
There rays divine disperse the gloom ;
Beyond the confines of the tomb

Appears the dawn of heaven.

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