3 Such a guide!-o guide attends thee:
Hence for thee my fears arise.
If some guardian power defend thee,
'Tis unseen by mortal eyes.
4 "Yes, unseen; but still, believe me,
Such a guide my steps attend.
He'll in every strait relieve me,
He will guide me to the end."
5 Pilgrim, see that stream before thee,
Darkly rolling through the vale :
Should its boisterous waves roll o'er thee,
Would not then thy courage fail?
6 "No! that stream has nothing frightful;
To its brink my steps I'll bend;
Thence to plunge 'twill be delightful;
There my pilgrimage will end."
7 While I gazed, with speed surprising
Down the vale she plunged from sight;
Gazing still, I saw her rising,
Like an angel clothed in light.
O, she's gone to the kingdom.
Will you follow her to glory?
Hallelujah! praise ye the Lord.
1 LO! on a narrow neck of land,
'Twixt two unbounded seas, I stand,
Yet how insensible!
A point of time, a moment's space,
Removes me to yon heav'nly place,
Or shuts me up in hell.
2 O God, my inmost soul convert,
And deeply on my thoughtless heart,
Eternal things impress;
Give me to feel their solemn weight,
And save me ere it be too late ;
Wake me to righteousness.
8 Before me place, in bright array,
The pomp of that tremendous day
When thou with clouds shalt come
To judge the nations at thy bar;
And tell me, Lord, shall I be there
To meet a joyful doom?
4 Be this my one great business here,
With holy trembling, holy fear,
To make my calling sure;
Thine utmost counsel to fulfil,
And suffer all thy righteous will,
And to the end endure.
530. c. M.
Time is short. 1 Cor. vii. 29.
1 "THE time is short!" the season near,
When death will us remove,
To leave our friends, however dear,
Leave all we fondly love.
2 "The time is short!" sinners, beware,
Nor trifle time away;
The word of great salvation hear
While it is call'd to-day.
3 "The time is short!" ye rebels now
To Christ, the Lord, submit ;
To mercy's golden sceptre bow,
And fall at Jesus' feet.
4 "The time is short!" ye saints, rejoice
The Lord will quickly come.
Soon shall you hear the Bridegroom's voice
To call you to your home.
"The time is short!" the moment near,
When we shall dwell above,
And be forever happy there,
With Jesus, whom we love.
531. P. M.
Heaven desired.
1 NOW here awhile I stay
In hopes of that glad day
When I am call'd away
To the mansions above;
There to enjoy the treasure
Of unconsuming pleasure,
And shout in highest measure
Hallelujahs of love.
And O give him glory,
And O give him glory,
And O give him glory,
For glory is his own.
Yes, you may give him glory,
And I will give him glory,
We'll shout and give him glory,
When we arrive at home.
2 In hopes of seeing Jesus
When all my conflicts ceases,
To him my love increases,
To worship and adore.
Come, then, my blessed Saviour,
Vouchsafe to me the favor
To dwell with thee forever
When time shall be no more.
3 Then in the blooming garden
Of Eden, gain'd by pardon,
Upon the banks of Jordan,
We'll worship the Lamb;
We'll sing the song of Moses,
While Jesus sweet composes
A song that never closes
Of praises to his name.
4 See, yonder is the glory;
It lies but just before me;
And there we'll tell the story,
Of all-redeeming love;
And there we shall forever
Drink of the flowing river,
And ever, ever, ever,
Surround the throne of love.
E. Cushman. 532. 8.7.4.
The Christian's funeral hymn.
1 HARK, the voice of injured Justice :
Sinners, listen, weep, and mourn,
Man is fallen; God, offended,
Bids his awful fury burn.
Turn, ye rebels!
To your kindred dust return.
2 Hark, the songs of raptured converts,
Ransom'd by their heavenly King.
Sin 's forgiven-death is vanquished;
Nature wakes to join and sing.
Songs of triumph
To the mighty conqu❜ror bring.
3 Hark, the strains of yonder music,
Mingling songs with dying sighs:
'Tis the voice of the believer
Bound to mansions in the skies-
Soft reposing
Till his God shall bid him rise.
4 Hark, th' eternal Judge, descending,
Rends the heavens, cleaves the tomb;
Angel's voice, with trumpet sounding,
Bids the ransom'd millions come.
Christ, the Saviour,
Bids his saints the welcome home.
1 WHEN, rising from the bed of death,
O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear,
I see my Maker face to face,
O, how shall I appear?
2 If yet, while pardon may be found,
And mercy may be sought,
My heart with inward horror shrinks,
And trembles at the thought,
3 When thou, O Lord! shalt stand disclos'd In majesty severe,
And sit in judgment on my soul,
O, how shall I appear?
4 Prepare me, Lord, to meet that day
Ere it be too late,
When I shall view these solemn scenes,
And feel their awful weight.
Harvest hymn. Mat. xiii. 24-30.
1 THIS is the field, the world below,
In which the sowers come to sow :
Jesus the wheat, Satan the tares,
For so the word of truth declares ;
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