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Enflame their minds with holy zeal -
Their flocks to feed and teach; And let them live, and let them feel
The sacred truths they preach.
133. Mortality. PotheningAY:
SOY'REIGN of life, before thine eye,
Lo! mortal men by thousands die:
One glance from thee, at once brings down
The proudest brow that wears a crown.
Banish'd at once from human sigbt,
To the dark grave's unchanging night;
Imprison'd in that dusty bed,
We hide our solitary head.
The friendly band no more shall greet
Accents familiar once, and sweet;
No more the well-known features trace,
No more renew the fond embrace.
Yet if our Father's faithful hand
Conduct us through this gloomy land,
Our souls with pleasure shall obey,
And follow where he leads the way.
He, nobler friends than here we leave,
In brighter, surer worlds can give;
Or, by the beamings of his eye,
A lost creation well supply.
134. Happy dying. Prospect. DEATH cannot make my soul afraid,
If God be with me there :
Soft is the passage through the shade,
And all the prospect fair.
Jesus, the vision of thy face
Hath overpow'ring charms;
Scarce shall I feel death's cold embrace,
If Christ be in my arms.
Then whilst I feel my heart-strings break,
Swect shall the minutes roll!
A mortal paleness on my cheek,
And glory in my soul!
Clasp'd in my heav'nly Father's arms,
I would forget to breathe;
And lose my life amidst the charms
Of so divine a death.
135. The dying Christian.
VITAL spark of heav'nly flame,
Quit, О quit this mortal frame;
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
O the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.
Hark, they whisper! angels say,
“ Sister spirit, come away:
What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath;
Tell me, my soul, can this be death
The world recedes, it disappears;
Heav'n opens on my eyes; my ears
With sounds seraphic ring :
Lend, lend your wings, I mount, I fly;
O grave, where is thy victory!
O death, where is thy sting! 136. The Last Judgment. Leoni. HARK! hark! the trumpet's sound
A wakes the sleeping dead,
From op'ning graves and seas profound
They lift their head:
See! num'rous throngs arise,
Of ev'ry land and tongue;
See! gazing on the flaming skies,
Both old and young.
Earth to her centre quakes,
Prodigious mountains fall,
W bile pond'rous rocks in pieces break,
The sea, like flaming oil,
Burns with a dreadful roar,
Its furious flaming billows boil
From shore to shore,
But see the Judge descend;
In solemn pomp array'd;
And all the heav'nly hosts attend
To judge the dead:
The dead, both small and great,
Stand at his righteous bar;
While sinners tremble at his feet,
Their doom to hear.
And saints lift up their face
With boldness to the throne,
Rejoicing in the wond'rous grace
Which led them on
Through all their toils below,
While in a world of pain;
And now has brought them conqu’rors thro'
With him to reign.
OH! what a glorious sight,
When Jesus turns his face,
And with unspeakable delight
And wond’rous grace,
Welcomes his children in,
To take the glorious crown;
And, free from sorrow, death, and sin,
With him sit down.
But see him turn to those
Who pale and trembling stand,
Who trampled on his righteous laws,
His mild command:
With countenance severe;
And words like thunder loud,
He bids unto the bar draw near
The sinful croud,
Who hear him
“ Depart To everlasting fire, Where burning worms shall gnaw your heart,
But ne'er expire;
Since in your mortal state
Ye chose to serve my foe,
Ye now shall feel the dreadful weight
Of wrath below.”
And must all men be brought
Before the awful bar?
Let sinners tremble at the thought
Of judgment near!
Let saints rejoice and sing,
And praise the God of love,
Till be their happy spirits bring
To heay'n above!