« السابقةمتابعة »
DODDRIDGE. Enoch's Piety and Translation. 1 ETERNAL God, our wondering souls
Admire thy matchless grace
With Adam's worthless race. 2 O, lead me to that happy path
Where I my God may meet;
Though briers wound my feet. 3 Nor shall I through eternal days
A restless pilgrim roam ;
Shall soon convey me home.
To realms of heavenly day,
To bear this flesh away.
To drop its mortal load,
That break its way to God.
WATTS. Moses dying in the Embraces of God. 1 DEATH cannot make our souls afraid,
If God be with us there;
And never yield to fear.
2 I could renounce my all below,
If my Creator bid,
And die as Moses did.
3 Might I but climb to Pisgah's top,
And view the promised land,
And pray for the command. 4 Clasped in my heavenly Father's arms,
I would forget my breath,
Of so divine a death.
Courage in Death. Ps. 16.
1 WHEN God is nigh, my faith is strong ;
His arm is my almighty prop;
My dying flesh shall rest in hope. 2 Though in the dust I lay my head,
Yet, gracious God, thou wilt not leave My soul forever with the dead,
Nor lose thy children in the grave. 3 My flesh shall thy first call obey,
Shake off the dust, and rise on high; Then shalt thou lead the wondrous way
Up to thy throne above the sky.
Triumph over Death.
1 AND must this body die,
This mortal frame decay?
Lie mouldering in the clay? 2 Corruption, earth, and worms
Shall but refine this flesh,
To put it on afresh.
And often from the skies
Till he shall bid it rise. 4 Arrayed in glorious grace
Shall these vile bodies shine,
Look heavenly and divine.
Victory through Christ oder Death. 1 Cor. xv.
1 WHEN the last trumpet's awful voice
This rending earth shall shake, When opening graves shall yield their charge,
And dust to life awake,
2 Those bodies that corrupted fell
Shall incorrupted rise,
Immortal in the skies.
3 Behold, what heavenly prophets sung
Is now at last fulfilled;
And, vanquished, quit the field.
4 Let Faith exalt her joyful voice,
And thus begin to sing :
Short from the cradle to the grave : Who can secure his vital breath Against the bold demands of Death,
With skill to fly, or power to save ?
For sickness, sorrow, and the dust "?
Lord, where's thy kindness to the just? 3 Hast thou not promised to thy Son, And all his seed, a heavenly crown?
But flesh and sense indulge despair :
And find a resurrection there.
WATTS. A Prospect of the Resurrection. 1 HOW long shall Death, the tyrant, reign,
And triumph o'er the just,
Lies mingled with the dust?
And from afar descry
And tell how fast they fly.