2

3

4

The world can never give
The bliss for which we sigh;

'T is not the whole of life, to live;
Nor all of death, to die.

Beyond this vale of tears,

There is a life above,

Unmeasured by the flight of years,
And all that life is love:

Here, God! we end our quest:
Alone are found in Thee,

The life of perfect love,—the rest
Of immortality.

507. C. M.

1 Oh! what were life, if time, alone, Comprised our being's span;

And no Eternity made known
The loftier hopes of man!

2 Its joy-a moment's sunny gleam,
Its grief-a starless night,
Its hope-a transitory dream,
Its fame- a meteor light.

3 But far beyond the lapse of years,
The griefs and cares of time
Which darken o'er this vale of tears,
Are treasured joys sublime.

4 Then fight the fight, and keep the faith;
That, having nobly striven,

To thee, victorious unto death,
Immortal life be given.

5 Knowing the Lord to them will give
A glorious crown on high,
Who seek but in His fear to live,
And in His favour die.

1 Thee we adore, Eternal Name!
And humbly own to Thee,
How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying creatures we.

2 Our wasting lives grow shorter still,
As months and days increase;
And every beating pulse we tell,
Still leaves the number less.

3 The year rolls round, and steals away
The breath which first it gave;
Whate'er we do, where'er we stay,
We 're travelling to the grave.

4 Dangers stand thick through all the ground, To push us to the tomb;

And fierce diseases wait around

To hurry mortals home.

5 Waken, O Lord, our drowsy sense
To walk this dangerous road;
And, if our souls be hurried hence,
May they be found with God.

509. L. M.

1 The God of glory walks His round, From day to day, from year to year; And warns us each, with awful sound, "No longer stand ye idle here!

2 "Ye whose young cheeks are rosy bright, Whose hands are strong, whose hearts are clear; Waste not of hope the morning light!

Mortals! why stand ye idle here?

3 "O, as the griefs you would assuage
That wait on life's declining year,
Secure a blessing for your age,
And work your Maker's business here!

4 "One hour remains, perhaps but one!
And many a sigh, and many a tear
Through heavenly years the guilt must moan
Of moments lost and wasted here!"

5 O Thou, by all Thy works adored!
To whom the sinner's soul is dear,
Recall us to Thy vineyard, Lord!
And grant us grace to please Thee here!

1 Let others boast how strong they be,
Nor death nor danger fear;

But we 'll confess, O Lord, to Thee,
What feeble things we are.

2 Fresh as the grass our bodies stand,
And flourish, bright and gay;
A blasting wind sweeps o'er the land,
And fades the grass away.

3 Our life contains a thousand springs;
We die if one be gone;

Strange that a harp of thousand strings
Should keep in tune so long.

4 But 't is our God supports our frame,
Who reared it from the dust:
Hosanna to the Almighty name
In whom is all our trust!

511. L. M

1 Like shadows gliding o'er the plain, Or clouds that roll successive on, Man's busy generations pass,

And while we gaze their forms are gone.

2 Vain is the boast of lengthened years, The patriarch's full maturity;

"T is but a larger drop to swell The ocean of eternity.

3 "He lived, he died;" behold the sum, The abstract of the historian's page; Alike in God's all-seeing eye

The infant's day, the patriarch's age.
4 O Father, in whose mighty hand
The boundless years and ages lie,
Teach us Thy boon of life to prize,
And use the moments as they fly:

5 To crowd the narrow span of life
With wise designs and virtuous deeds:
So shall we wake from death's dark night,
To share the glory that succeeds.

512. L. M.

1 When life as opening buds is sweet,
And golden hopes the fancy greet,
And youth prepares his joys to meet,—
Alas! how hard it is to die!

2 When just is seized some valued prize,And duties press, and tender ties

Forbid the soul from earth to rise,-
How awful then it is to die!

3 When, one by one, those ties are torn, And friend from friend is snatched forlorn,

And man is left alone to mourn,

Ah then, how easy 't is to die!