Then, Christian, faint not, though thy doom
Lead e'en through sorrow to the tomb;

And though before thee trials be,

Deep scorn, and tears, and misery.

K. T.

TRIUMPHING OVER DEATH.

"The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." 1 Cor. xv. 56, 57.

Lord, I rejoice to celebrate

That all-resistless might,

Which burst for me the grave and gate
Of death and endless night.

Lord, I delight that love to sing,
Which helpeth me to cry,
O Death! where is thy sting,
Where, Grave, thy victory?

I look my guilty heart within,
And own with many a sigh

The only sting that wounds is sin-
This makes me fear to die.

Though many an age hath now unheeded past

Since this thy summons, Great Salvation's King! Though from on high no trumpet's quick'ning blast Hath through the universe been heard to ring;

Though, in thine own and Father's pomp array'd, We have not hail'd Thee girt with flames of fire, Nor seen the blessedness of heaven pourtray'd

By saints that rest, or shouting seraphs' choir :

Yet surely wilt thou come; for nought is time
To thee, O great and ever-blessed Name,
9

Who, thron'd beside the Majesty sublime,
Countest eternity and years the same.

And thou wilt quickly come-the longest span
To mortal lent is only as a breath
Compar'd to Thine-and then to ev'ry man
Thy certain visitation, Lord, is Death!

Oh, happy Christian! who in this thy day
Art keeping watch, who, looking through the tomb
To worlds beyond, canst fervent, fearless pray,
"Amen. E'en so, Lord Jesus, quickly come!"

K. T.

THE DEPARTING SPIRIT.

The span of life is ended now, death's chill is at my heart,

But thou, O blessed Saviour, new life unto me art. Why tremble then, my timid soul? In rest thou soon shalt be,

And Christ the Lord will be a guide and guardian unto thee.

Leave, therefore, now this wretched house, fast tending to decay,

In glory to be fashion'd at the resurrection day.

Art thou a grievous sinner? I know that thou art so, But trust in Christ, His precious blood will wash thee white as snow.

Doth death appal? yea verily, but pleasures and delights

Continually attend that life to which the Lord invites. Now therefore hasten, O my soul, eternally to dwell With Christ the Lord who triumphed o'er both Satan, sin, and hell.

K. T. from the Latin of Musculus.

THE END.

GILBERT & RIVINGTON, Printers, St. John's quare, London.