658 P. M. BISHOP HEBER. Funeral Hymn. 1 THOU art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee; Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb, The Savior has passed through its portals before thee, And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom. 2 Thou art gone to the grave; we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may hope, since the Sinless has died. 3 Thou art gone to the grave, and, its mansions forsaking, Perhaps thy tried spirit in doubt lingered long; But the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on thy waking, And the song that thou heard'st was the seraphim's song. 4 Thou art gone to the grave, but 'twere wrong to deplore thee, When God was thy Ransom, thy Guardian, and He gave thee, and took thee, and soon will restore thee, Where death has no sting, since the Savior has died. 1 BROTHER, thou art gone before us, And thy saintly soul is flown MILMAN. Where tears are wiped from every eye, From the burden of the flesh, And from care and fear released, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest. 2 Sin can never taint thee now, Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ And there thou'rt sure to meet the good, 3 "Earth to earth," and "dust to dust," Where the wicked cease from troubling, 514 1 UNVEIL thy bosom, faithful tomb; 2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear, 3 So Jesus slept; God's dying Son WATTS. Passed through the grave, and blessed the bed; 4 Break from his throne, illustrious morn; 661 7s M. Death of the Righteous. METHODIST COL. 1 HARK! a voice divides the sky; In the Lord who sweetly die, They from all their toils are freed: Blest, unutterably blest; 2 Followed by their works they go Grace hath opened mercy's door; Here they knew their sins forgiven; 3 Who can now lament the lot Of a saint in Christ deceased? 662 C. M. WATTS. "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; 3 Far from this world of toil and strife 663 L. M. The Young cut off in their Prime. S. WESLEY. 1 THE morning flowers display their sweets, 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, With lustre brighter far shall shine, Revive with ever-during bloom, Safe from diseases and decline. 6 Let sickness blast, let death devour, If heaven must recompense our pains: |