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He lives, who lives to God alone,
And all are dead beside;

For other source than God is none,
Whence life can be supplied.

To live to God is to requite
His love as best we may:

To make his precepts our delight,
His promises our stay.

But life, within a narrow ring
Of giddy joys comprised,

Is falsely named, and no such thing,
But rather death disguised.

Can life in them deserve the name,

Who only live to prove For what poor toys they can disclaim

An endless life above?

Who trample order, and the day

Which God asserts his own, Dishonour with unhallowed play

And worship chance alone?

If scorn of God's commands, impressed

On word and deed, imply
The better part of man unblessed

With life that cannot die;

Such want it, and that want, uncured

Till man resigns his breath, Speaks him a criminal, assured

Of everlasting death.

Sad period to a pleasant course!

Yet so will God repay
Sabbaths profaned without remorse,

And mercy cast away.


Away! thou dying saint, away!
Fly to the mansions of the blest,
Thy God no more requires thy stay,
He calls thee to eternal rest.

Thy toils at length have reached a close,
No more remains for thee to do;
Away, away to thy repose,
Beyond the reach of evil go.

Away to yonder realms of light,
Where multitudes, redeemed with blood,
Enjoy the beatific sight,
And dwell for ever with their God.

Go, mix with them, and share their joy,
In heaven behold the sinner's friend;
In pleasures share that never cloy,
In pleasures that will never end.

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And may our happy portion be,
To join thee in the realms above,
The glory of our Lord to see,
And sing his everlasting love.




Be patient yet, niy soul, thou hast not long

To groan beneath accumulated wrong:

Soon, very soon, I trust, the galling yoke

That clogs thee now, for ever shall be broke.

It comes, thy freedom comes; from grief arise,

Prepare, exulting, for thy native skies;

Soon, very soon, this world's unholy dreams,

Its poor possessors, and their trifling schemes

Shall worthless seem to thee, as leaves embrowned


That blasts autumnal scatter o'er the ground.
O then, from all of earthly taint made free,
What scenes unthought thy blessed eyes may see!
Perhaps commissioned thou shalt bend thy flight,
Where worlds and suns roll far from mortal sight,


And, hailed by beings pure, who know no care,
Thy gracious Master's high behests declare:
Or raptured bend, amid the seraph band,
That round the throne of light attending stand,
To golden haqw their dulcet voices raise,
And ceaseless hymn the great Creator's praise.
O while such hopes await, can aught on earth,
My conscious soul, to one sad sigh give birth?
Be far each anxious thought, no more repine,
Soon shall the crown of Amaranth be thine.



Farewell! for I have schooled my heart
At last to say farewell to thee!

Now I can bear to look on death,—
Its bitterness is past for me.

The faded brow, the pallid lip,

Proclaim what soon my fate will be;

And welcome is their tale of death,
For I have said farewell to thee!

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