Consolations in Bereavement.
1 THE air of Death breathes through our souls, The dead all round us lie;
By day and night the death-bell tolls, And says, "Prepare to die!"
2 The loving ones we loved the best, Like music all are gone;
And the wan moonlight bathes in rest, Their monumental stone.
3 But not when the death-prayer is said, The life of life departs: The body in the grave is laid, Its beauty in our hearts.
4 At holy midnight voices sweet, Like fragrance fill the room; And happy ghosts with noiseless feet, Come brightening from the tomb.
5 We know who sends the visions bright, From whose dear side they came! We veil our eyes before thy light, We bless our Saviour's name!
6 This frame, O God, this feeble breath, Thy hand may soon destroy;
We think of Thee, and feel in death A deep and awful joy.
7 Dim is the light of vanished years
In the glory yet to come;
O idle grief! O foolish tears! When Jesus calls us home.
Death of the Young.
1 CALM on the bosom of thy God, Young spirit, rest thee now! E'en while with us thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow.
2 Dust, to its narrow house beneath! Soul, to its place on high!
They that have seen thy look in death, No more may fear to die.
3 Lone are the paths, and sad the bowers, Whence thy meek smile is gone; But O, a brighter home than ours, In heaven is now thine own.
1 As the sweet flower that scents the morn,
But withers in the rising day,
Thus lovely was this infant's dawn,
Thus swiftly fled its life away.
2 It died ere its expanding soul Had ever burnt with wrong desires, Had ever spurned at Heaven's control, Or ever quenched its sacred fires.
3 It died to sin, it died to cares,
But for a moment felt the rod:- O mourner! such, the Lord declares, Such are the children of our God!
Death of a Christian in his Prime.
1 Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime, In full activity of zeal and power;
A Christian cannot die before his time, The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour.
2 Go to the grave; at noon from labor cease; Rest on thy sheaves, thy harvest-task is done; Come from the heat of battle, and in peace, Soldier, go home; with thee the fight is won.
3 Go to the grave, for there thy Saviour lay In death's embraces, ere he rose on high; And all the ransomed, by that narrow way, Pass to eternal life beyond the sky.
4 Go to the grave:-no, take thy seat above; Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord, Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love, And open vision for the written word.
On the Death of an aged Christian.
1 SERVANT of God, well done!
Rest from thy loved employ; The battle fought, the victory won, Enter thy Master's joy.
2 The voice of midnight came, He started up to hear; A mortal arrow pierced his frame He fell, but felt no fear.
3 Tranquil amidst alarms,
It found him on the field,
A veteran slumbering on his arms, Beneath his red-cross shield.
4 The pains of death are past; Labor and sorrow cease;
And, life's long warfare closed at last, His soul is found in peace.
5 Soldier of Christ, well done! Praise be thy new employ; And while eternal ages run, Rest in thy Saviour's joy.
1 CLAY to clay, and dust to dust! Let them mingle- for they must! Give to earth the earthly clod, For the spirit's fled to God.
2 Never more shall midnight's damp Darken round this mortal lamp; Never more shall noonday's glance Search this mortal countenance.
3 Deep the pit, and cold the bed, Where the spoils of death are laid: Stiff the curtains, chill the gloom, Of man's melancholy tomb.
4 Look aloft! The spirit's risen Death cannot the soul imprison: "Tis in heaven that spirits dwell, Glorious, though invisible.
5 Thither let us turn our view; Peace is there, and comfort too: There shall those we love be found, Tracing joy's eternal round.
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