Hymns for Christian Devotion

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4 He died to sin; he died to care;
But for a moment felt the rod;
Then, rising on the viewless air,
Spread his light wings, and soared to God.

583. L. M. Steele.

The Same.

1 So fades the lovely, blooming flower,
Frail, smiling solace of an hour;
So soon our transient comforts fly,
And pleasure only blooms to die.

2 Is there no kind, no healing art,
To soothe the anguish of the heart?
Spirit of grace, be ever nigh:
Thy comforts are not made to die.

3 Let gentle patience smile on pain,
Till dying hope revives again;
Hope wipes the tear from sorrow's eye,
And faith points upward to the sky.

584. C. M. Steele.

Death of a Child.

1 Life is a span,--a fleeting hour:
How soon the vapor flies!
Man is a tender, transient flower,
That e'en in 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 Hope looks beyond the bounds of time,
When what we now deplore
Shall rise in full, immortal prime,
And bloom to fade no more.

4 Cease, then, fond nature, cease thy tears;
Thy Saviour dwells on high;
There everlasting spring appears;
There joy shall never die.

585. 7s. & 6s. M. Anonymous.

Children in Heaven.

1 In the broad fields of heaven,--
In the immortal bowers,
By life's clear river dwelling,
Amid undying flowers,--
There hosts of beauteous spirits,
Fair children of the earth,
Linked in bright bands celestial,
Sing of their human birth.

2 They sing of earth and heaven,--
Divinest voices rise
To God, their gracious Father,
Who called them to the skies:
They all are there,--in heaven,--
Safe, safe, and sweetly blest;
No cloud of sin can shadow
Their bright and holy rest.

586. S. M. Wilson.

Death of a Young Girl.

1 What though the stream be dead,
Its banks all still and dry!
It murmurs o'er a lovelier bed,
In air-groves of the sky.

2 What though our bird of light
Lie mute with plumage dim;
In heaven I see her glancing bright,
I hear her angel hymn.

3 True that our beauteous doe
Hath left her still retreat,
But purer now in heavenly snow,
She lies at Jesus' feet.

4 O star! untimely set!
Why should we weep for thee!
Thy bright and dewy coronet
Is rising o'er the sea.

587. 7s. M. Anonymous.

Dirge for an Infant.

1 Lay her gently in the dust;
Grievous task, but oh! ye must!
Hear the sentence, "earth to earth,
Spirit to immortal birth;"
Youthful, gentle, undefiled,
Angels nurture now the child!

2 Upward soaring, like the dove,
Bearing with her chains of love;
Not to draw her spirit back,
But to smooth her upward track:
Her, the youngest of thy fold,
Angels watch with love untold!

3 With the Rock of Ages trust,
That which was enshrined in dust;
Robed in ever-spotless white,
In an atmosphere of light,
By the never-failing springs
Rests she now her weary wings.

588. C. M. H. Bacon.

Death of a Child.

1 Thou gavest, and we yield to thee,
God of the human heart!
For bitter though grief's cup may be,
Thou givest but our part.

2 O, thou canst bid our grief be stilled,
Yet not rebuke our tears;
How large a place his presence filled!
How vacant it appears!

3 We mourn the sunshine of his smile,
The tendrils of his love;
Oh, was he loved too well the while
Ere he was called above?

4 Our chastened spirits bow in prayer,
And blend all prayers in one,--
Give us the hope to meet him there,
When life's full task is done.

589. C. M. Mrs. Hemans.

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.

590. 8s. & 7s. M. S. F. Smith.

Death of a Young Girl.

1 Sister, thou wast mild and lovely,
Gentle as the summer breeze,
Pleasant as the air of evening,
When it floats among the trees.

2 Peaceful be thy silent slumber--
Peaceful in the grave so low:
Thou no more wilt join our number;
Thou no more our songs shalt know.

3 Dearest sister, thou hast left us;
Here thy loss we deeply feel;
But 'tis God that hath bereft us:
He can all our sorrows heal.

4 Yet again we hope to meet thee,
When the day of life is fled,
Then in heaven with joy to greet thee,
Where no farewell tear is shed.

591. 8s. & 7s. M. Bap. Memorial.

Burial of a Christian Brother.

1 Brother, rest from sin and sorrow;
Death is o'er and life is won;
On thy slumber dawns no morrow:
Rest; thine earthly race is run.

2 Brother, wake; the night is waning;
Endless day is round thee poured;
Enter thou the rest remaining
For the people of the Lord.

3 Brother, wake; for he who loved thee,--
He who died that thou mightst live,--
He who graciously approved thee,--
Waits thy crown of joy to give.

4 Fare thee well; though woe is blending
With the tones of earthly love,
Triumph high and joy unending
Wait thee in the realms above.

592. 10s. M. Montgomery.

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.

593. S. M. Montgomery.

On the Death of an aged Christian.

"I have fought a good fight; I have finished my course."

1 Servant of God, well done!
Rest from thy loved employ:
The battle fought, the victory won,
Enter thy Master's joy.
The voice at midnight came,
He started up to hear;
A mortal arrow pierced his frame--
He fell, but felt no fear.

2 Tranquil amidst alarms,
It found him on the field,
A veteran slumbering on his arms,
Beneath his red-cross shield
His spirit, with a bound,
Burst its encumbering clay;
His tent, at sunrise, on the ground,
A darkened ruin lay.

3 The pains of death are past,
Labor and sorrow cease,
And, life's long warfare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.
Soldier of Christ! well done!
Praise be thy new employ;
And while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour's joy.

594. C. M. Dale.

Death of a Christian.

1 Dear as thou wert, and justly dear,
We will not weep for thee:
One thought shall check the starting tear
It is, that thou art free.

2 And thus shall faith's consoling power
The tears of love restrain:
O, who that saw thy parting hour
Could wish thee here again!

3 Triumphant in thy closing eye
The hope of glory shone;
Joy breathed in thy expiring sigh,
To think the race was run.

4 The passing spirit gently fled,
Sustained by grace divine;
O, may such grace on us be shed,
And make our end like thine.

595. L. M. Fawcett.

Death of Parents.

1 The God of mercy will indulge
The flowing tear, the heaving sigh,
When honored parents fall around,
When friends beloved and kindred die.

2 Yet not one anxious, murmuring thought
Should with our mourning passions blend;
Nor should our bleeding hearts forget
Their mighty, ever-living Friend.

3 Parent, Protector, Guardian, Guide,
Thou art each tender name in one;
On thee we cast our every care,
And comfort seek from thee alone.

4 To thee, our Father, would we look,
Our Rock, our Portion, and our Friend,
And on thy gracious love and truth
With humble, steadfast hope depend.

596. 7s. M. H. S. Washburn.

The Pastor's Funeral.

1 Father, gathered round the bier,
Aid thy weeping children here;
All our stricken hearts deplore
Loss of him we meet no more.

2 Tender are the rites we pay,
Pastor, o'er thy sleeping clay;
We, who late the welcome gave,
Must we bear thee to thy grave?

3 Earth, unto thy faithful trust,
We commit this precious dust,
There, by pain no more oppressed,
Brother, thou wilt sweetly rest.

4 Glorious will that morning break,
When the dead in Christ shall wake;
Joy and grief our bosoms swell,
Brother, pastor, guide, farewell.

597. P. M. Anonymous.

Death of a Minister.

1 On Zion's holy walls
Is quenched a beacon-light,
In vain the watchman calls--
"Sentry! what of the night?"
No answering voice is here,
Say--does the soldier sleep?
O yes--upon the bier,
His watch no more to keep.

2 Still is that heaven-touched tongue,
Pulseless the throbbing breast;
That voice with music strung,
Forever put to rest.
To rest? A living thought,
Undimmed, unquenched, he soars
An essence, spirit-wrought,
Of yon immortal shores.

3 Peace to thee, man of God!
Thine earthly toils are o'er,
The thorny path is trod,
The Shepherd trod before,--
Full well he kept his word--
"I'm with thee to the end;
Fear not! I am the Lord,
Thy never-failing friend!"

4 We weave no dirge for thee,
It should not call a tear
To know that thou art free;
Thy home--it was not here!
Joy to thee, man of God!
Thy heaven-course is begun,
Unshrinking, thou has trod
Death's vale,--thy race is run.

598. 8s. & 7s. M. L. H. Sigourney.

The Same.

1 Pastor, thou art from us taken
In the glory of thy years,
As the oak, by tempests shaken,
Falls ere time its verdure sears.

2 Pale and cold we see thee lying
In God's temple, once so dear,
And the mourner's bitter sighing
Falls unheeded on thine ear.

3 All thy love and zeal, to lead us
Where immortal fountains flow,
And on living bread to feed us,
In our fond remembrance glow.

4 May the conquering faith, that cheered thee
When thy foot on Jordan pressed,
Guide our spirits while we leave thee
In the tomb that Jesus blessed.

599. C. M. Doddridge.

The Same.

1 What though the arm of conquering death
Does God's own house invade;
What though our teacher and our friend
Is numbered with the dead;--

2 Though earthly shepherds dwell in dust,
The aged and the young;
The watchful eye in darkness closed,
And dumb th' instructive tongue?

3 Th' eternal Shepherd still survives,
His teaching to impart:
Lord, be our Leader and our Guide,
And rule and keep our heart.

4 Yes, while the dear Redeemer lives,
We have a boundless store,
And shall be fed with what he gives,
Who lives for evermore.

600. 7s. & 6s. M. C. Wesley.

Adieu to a Departed Christian Friend.

1 Farewell, thou once a mortal,
Our poor, afflicted friend;
Go, pass the heavenly portal,
To God, thy glorious end.

2 The Author of thy being
Hath summoned thee away;
And faith is lost in seeing,
And night in endless day.

3 With those that went before thee,
The saints of ancient days,
Who shine in sacred story,
Thy soul hath found its place.

4 No loss of friends shall grieve thee;
That--we alone must bear;
They cannot, cannot leave thee,
Thy kind companions there.

5 From all thy care and sorrow
Thou art escaped to-day;
And we shall mount to-morrow,
And soar to thee away.

601. 7s. M. C. Wesley.

The Christian's Death.

1 Lo! the prisoner is released,
Lightened of his fleshly load;
Where the weary are at rest,
He is gathered unto God:
Lo! the pain of life is past,
And his warfare now is o'er;
Death and hell behind are cast,
Grief and suffering are no more,

2 Yes! the Christian's course is run,
Ended is the glorious strife;
Fought the fight, the crown is won,
Death is swallowed up of life;
Borne by angels on their wings,
Far from earth his spirit flies
To the Lord he loved, and sings
Triumphing in paradise.

3 Join we then with one accord
In the new and joyful song;
Absent from our glorious Lord
We shall not continue long:
We shall quit the house of clay,
Better joys with him to share;
We shall see the realms of day,
We shall meet our brethren there.

602. C. M. Knowles.

The Mourner Comforted.

1 O, weep not for the joys that fade
Like evening lights away,
For hopes that, like the stars decayed,
Have left thy mortal day;
The clouds of sorrow will depart,
And brilliant skies be given;
For bliss awaits the holy heart,
Amid the bowers of heaven.

2 O weep not for the friends that pass
Into the lonely grave,
As breezes sweep the withered grass
Along the restless wave;
For though thy pleasures may depart,
And mournful days be given;
Yet bliss awaits the holy heart,
When friends rejoin in heaven.

603. C. M. Wilson.

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 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.

5 Dim is the light of vanished years
In glory yet to come;
O idle grief! O foolish tears!
When Jesus calls us home.

604. S. M. Ch. Psalmody.

The Peaceful Death of the Righteous.

1 O, for the death of those
Who slumber in the Lord!
O, be like theirs my last repose,
Like theirs my last reward!

2 Their ransomed spirits soar,
On wings of faith and love,
To meet the Saviour they adore,
And reign with him above.

3 With us their names shall live
Through long-succeeding years,
Embalmed with all our hearts can give,--
Our praises and our tears.

605. L. M. 6l. Sarah F. Adams.

"And they found the stone rolled away from the sepulchre."

1 The mourners came at break of day
Unto the garden-sepulchre;
With darkened hearts to weep and pray,
For him, the loved one buried there.
What radiant light dispels the gloom?
An angel sits beside the tomb.

2 Then mourn we not beloved dead,
E'en while we come to weep and pray;
The happy spirit far hath fled.
To brighter realms of endless day;
Immortal hope dispels the gloom!
An angel sits beside the tomb.

SUBMISSION AND RELIANCE.

606. C. M. Anonymous.

"Trust ye in the Lord."

1 When grief and anguish press me down,
And hope and comfort flee,
I cling, O Father, to thy throne,
And stay my heart on thee.

2 When clouds of dark temptation rise,
And pour their wrath on me,
To thee for aid I turn my eyes,
And fix my trust on thee.

3 When death invades my peaceful home,
The sundered ties shall be
A closer bond in time to come,
To bind my heart to thee.

4 Lord,--"Not my will but thine be done!"
My soul from fear set free,
Her faith shall anchor at thy throne,
And trust alone in thee.

607. L. M. Doddridge.

Weeping Seed-Time and Joyful Harvest. Ps. 126.

1 The darkened sky, how thick it lowers!
Troubled with storms, and big with showers,
No cheerful gleam of light appears,
And nature pours forth all her tears.

2 But seeds of ecstasy unknown
Are in these watered furrows sown:
See the green blades, how thick they rise,
And with fresh verdure bless our eyes!

3 In secret foldings they contain
Unnumbered ears of golden grain:
And heaven shall pour its beams around,
Till the ripe harvest load the ground.

4 Then shall the trembling mourner come
And bind his sheaves and bear them home;
The voice long broke with sighs shall sing,
Till heaven with hallelujahs ring.

608. L. M. 6l. Grant.

"He is able to save unto the uttermost."

1 When vexing thoughts within me rise,
And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies;
Yet he who once vouchsafed to bear
The sick'ning anguish of despair,
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry,
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.

2 When, mourning, o'er some stone I bend,
Which covers all that was a friend,
And from his voice, his hand, his smile,
Divides me for a little while;
Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed,
For thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead.

3 And oh, when I have safely past
Through every conflict but the last,
Still, still unchanging, watch beside
My painful bed--for thou hast died;
Then point to realms of cloudless day,
And wipe the latest tear away.

609. C. M. Cotton.

God, the Refuge of the Afflicted.

1 Affliction is a stormy deep,
Where wave resounds to wave;
Though o'er our heads the billows roll,
We know the Lord can save.

2 When darkness and when sorrows rose,
And pressed on every side,
The Lord hath still sustained our steps,
And still hath been our Guide.

3 Perhaps, before the morning dawn,
He will restore our peace;
For he who bade the tempest roar,
Can bid the tempest cease.

4 Here will we rest, here build our hopes,
Nor murmur at his rod;
He's more to us than all the world,
Our Health, our Life, our God.

610. L. M. Miss Dodd.

"Thy will be done."

1 My Father, grant thy presence nigh
To bear aloft my sinking soul,
When sorrow o'er my pathway here
In widely whelming waves doth roll.
O, teach mine else unguarded heart,
The clouds of gloomy doubt to shun,
To bow unto thy chastening hand,
And meekly say "Thy will be done."

2 Though dark to us thy ways may seem,
Thy needful chastisements severe;
Thou dost not willingly afflict,
Nor grieve thy erring children here.
O, teach my heart to lean on thee,
To faith and resignation won,
To see thy love in all its ways,
And humbly say, "Thy will be done."

611. 7s. M. Anonymous.

Holy Contentment.

1 Lord, my times are in thy hand:
All my fondest hopes have planned
To thy wisdom I resign,
And would make thy purpose mine.

2 Thou my daily task shalt give;
Day by day to thee I live:
So shall added years fulfil
Not my own, my Father's will.

3 Fond ambition, whisper not;
Happy is my humble lot:
Anxious, busy cares, away;
I'm provided for to-day.

4 O, to live exempt from care,
By the energy of prayer,
Strong in faith, with mind subdued,
Yet elate with gratitude!

612. L. M. 6l. Anonymous.

Invocation of our Father's Presence.

1 O Father,--draw us after thee!
So shall we run and never tire;
Thy presence still our comfort be,
Our hope, our joy, our sole desire;
Thy Spirit grant;--for neither fear
Nor sin can come, while that is here.

2 From all eternity, with love
Unchangeable, thou hast us viewed;
Before these beating hearts did move,
Thy tender mercies us pursued:
Ever with us may they abide,
And close us in on every side.

3 In suffering be thy love our peace;
In weakness be thy love our power;
And when the storms of life shall cease,
O God! in that important hour,
In death as life be thou our guide,
And bear us through death's whelming tide.

613. C. M. Heginbotham.

Praising God in all Changes.

1 Father of mercies, God of love,
My Father and my God!
I'll sing the honors of thy name;
And spread thy praise abroad.

2 In every period of my life,
Thy thoughts of love appear;
Thy mercies gild each transient scene,
And crown each lengthening year.

3 In all these mercies may my soul
A father's bounty see:
Nor let the gifts thy grace bestows
Estrange my heart from thee.

4 Then will I close my eyes in death,
Free from distressing fear;
For death itself is life, my God,
If thou art with me there.

614. 7s. M. Cowper.

Welcome, Cross.

1 'Tis my happiness below
Not to live without the cross,
But the Saviour's power to know,
Sanctifying every loss:
Trials must and will befall;
But with humble faith to see
Love inscribed upon them all,--
This is happiness to me.

2 God in Israel sows the seeds
Of affliction, pain and toil:
These spring up and choke the weeds
Which would else o'erspread the soil:
Trials make the promise sweet;
Trials give new life to prayer;
Trials bring me to his feet,
Lay me low, and keep me there.

615. L. M. Anonymous.

"Thy will be done."

1 When called, O Lord, to mourn the doom
Of one affection held most dear,--
While o'er the closing, silent tomb,
The bleeding heart distils the tear,--
Though love its tribute sure will pay,
And early streams of solace shun,
Still, still the humble soul would say,
In lowly dust, "Thy will be done."

2 Whate'er, O Lord, thou hast designed
To bring my soul to thee in trust,
If miseries or afflictions kind,--
For all thy dealings, Lord, are just,--
Take all, but grant, in goodness free,
That love which ne'er thy stroke should shun;
Support this heart and strengthen me
To say in faith, "Thy will be done."

616. C. M. Doddridge.

"My times are in thy hand."

1 To Thee, my God, my days are known;
My soul enjoys the thought;
My actions all before thy face,
Nor are my faults forgot.

2 Each secret breath devotion vents
Is vocal to thine ear;
And all my walks of daily life
Before thine eye appear.

3 Each golden hour of beaming light
Is gilded by thy rays;
And dark affliction's midnight gloom
A present God surveys.

4 Full in thy view through life I pass,
And in thy view I die;
And when each mortal bond is broke,
Shall find my God is nigh.

617. C. M. Tate & Brady.

Praising God through all Changes.

1 Through all the changing scenes of life,
In trouble and in joy,
The praises of my God shall still
My heart and tongue employ.

2 Of his deliverance I will boast,
Till all who are distressed
From my example comfort take,
And charm their griefs to rest.

3 The hosts of God encamp around
The dwellings of the just;
Deliverance he affords to all
Who in his succor trust.

4 O make but trial of his love!
Experience will decide
How blest they are, and only they,
Who in his truth confide.

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