156 T. H. GILL. C. M. Heaven. 1 THE happy fields, the heavenly host, Do make us gladsome, Lord, but most 2 O bright those golden gates must shine That boundless region how divine, That hath no room for sin ! 3 Sweet holy land! sweet with the throng Where holy happy ones among 4 No more to weep o'er lustre lent, 5 But gloriously to spend that grace Nor once thine image to deface, Nor once thy spirit grieve. 60 here thy servants soon give o'er, But half thy word fulfil; How faint their zeal, their strife how sore, To work the eternal will! 157 7 But there upon thine errands sweet How holy-swift they run! What smiling service! how complete 8 No tempter there our souls shall stop Nor win our weak desires to drop 9 But angels kind their raptures blend Our wingéd zeal their wings they lend, 10 Still, Lord, with sorrow and with sin Yet blest the warfare that shall win "Blessed are the Dead that Die in the Lord." 1 HEAR what the voice from heaven proclaims For all the pious dead : Sweet is the savor of their names, And soft their sleeping bed. 2 They die in Jesus, and are blessed; From sufferings and from sins released, 158 3 Far from this world of toil and strife, The labors of their mortal life End in a large reward. The Righteous Blessed in Death. 1 How blest the righteous when he dies! How mildly beam the closing eyes, How gently heaves the expiring breast! 2 So fades a summer cloud away, So sinks the gale when storms are o'er, 3 A holy quiet reigns around, A calm which life nor death destroys; 4 Farewell, conflicting hopes and. fears, Where lights and shades alternate dwell! 5 Life's duty done, as sinks the clay, While heaven and earth combine to say, 159 8 & 7s M. METHODIST COL. 160 The Dying Christian. 1 HAPPY soul, thy days are ended, Lo! the Saviour stands above; 2 Struggle through thy latest passion To his everlasting rest. For the joy he sets before thee, Bear a momentary pain; Die, to live a life of glory; Suffer, with thy Lord to reign. L. M. S. WESLEY The Young cut off in their Prime. 1 THE morning flowers display their sweets, And their silken leaves unfold, As careless of the noontide heats As fearless of the evening cold. 161 2 Nipped by the wind's untimely blast, The short-lived beauties die away. 3 So blooms the human face divine, 4 Or worn by slowly-rolling years, The short-lived beauties die away. 5 Yet these, new rising from the tomb, Revive with ever-during bloom, Safe from diseases and decline. 6 Let sickness blast, let death devour, P. M. Funeral Hymn. 1 BROTHER, thou art gone before us, And thy saintly soul is flown. MILMAN. Where tears are wiped from every eye, And sorrow is unknown, |