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LONG HOME. 78, 88, 78.

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lives! and this we know, Thou, O Grave, canst not enthrall us,

1153 "De shall Live Also."
JESUS lives! no longer now

Can thy terrors, Death, appall us:
Jesus lives! and this we know,
Thou, O Grave, canst not enthrall us.
2 Jesus lives: henceforth is death
But the gate of life immortal;
This shall calm our trembling breath,
When we pass its gloomy portal.

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1154 Death of a Little Child.

TENDER Shepherd, thou hast stilled
Now thy little lamb's brief weeping:
Ah, how peaceful, pale, and mild

In its narrow bed 't is sleeping!
And no sigh of anguish sore
Heaves that little bosom more.



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3 Jesus lives: our hearts know well
Naught from us his love shall sever;
Life, nor death, nor powers of hell
Tear us from his keeping ever.

4 Jesus lives: to him the throne
Over all the world is given:
May we go where he is gone,
Rest and reign with him in heaven.

Frances E. Cox, tr.



J 1991;


In its nar-row bed 't is sleep-ing! And no sigh of anguish sore Heaves that little bo-som more.


2 Ah, Lord Jesus, grant that we Where it lives may soon be living, And the lovely pastures see

That its heavenly food are giving; Then the gain of death we prove, Though thou take what most we love.

Catherine Winkworth, tr.

LEOMINSTER. S. M. D. Slowly.


A few more years shall roll, A few more seasons come, And we shall be with those that rest A-sleep with-in the tomb:

Then, O my Lord, pre-pare My soul for that great day; Oh, wash me in thy precious blood, And take my sins a

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Arr. by A. S. SULLIVAN.

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3 A few more storms shall beat On this wild rocky shore,

And we shall be where tempests cease, And surges swell no more:- REF.

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4 A few more struggles here,

A few more partings o'er,

A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more:— - REF.
5 'Tis but a ttle while
And he shall come again,

Who died that we might live, who lives
That we with him may reign:-REF.

Horatius Bonar.



It is not death to die- To leave this weary road, And 'mid the broth-er-hood on high, To be at home with God.


4 It is not death to fling Aside this sinful dust,

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And rise, on strong exulting wing, To live among the just.

From dungeon chain,- to breathe the air Of boundless liberty.

5 Jesus, thou Prince of life! Thy chosen cannot die;

Like thee, they conquer in the strife, To reign with thee on high.

G. W. Bethune.

ST. MILLICENT. 7s, 48.

Let no tears to-day be shed, Holy is


Burial of a Child.

LET no tears to-day be shed,
Holy is this narrow bed. Alleluia!
2 Death eternal life bestows,
Open heaven's portal throws. Alleluia!
3 Not salvation hardly won,

Not the meed of race well run: Alleluia!

4 But the pity of the Lord

Gives his child a full reward: Alleluia!


1158"all in Jesus Sleeping."


SLEEP thy last sleep, free from care and
Rest, where none weep, till the eternal
Though dark waves roll o'er the silent

Thy fainting soul Jesus can deliver.
2 Life's dream is past, all its sin, its sadness;
Brightly at last dawns a day of gladness.


Close. Thy will be done!

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this nar-row bed.

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5 Grants the prize without the course;
Crowns, without the battle's force. Alleluia!
6 God, who loveth innocence,
Hastes to take his darling hence. Alleluia!
7 Christ, when this sad life is done,
Join us to thy little one. Alleluia !
8 And in thine own tender love,

Bring us to the ranks above. Alleluia! Amen.

Richard F. Littledale, tr.


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En Bereavement.

I "THY will be done!" || In devious way The hurrying stream of | life may run; || Yet still our grateful hearts shall say, "Thy will be done."

2 "Thy will be | done!" || If o'er us shine A gladdening and a prosperous | sun, || This prayer will make it more divine "Thy will be done!"

3 "Thy will be done!" || Though shrouded o'er Our path with gloom, || one comfort one || Is ours: to breathe, while we adore, | "Thy will be done." I

John Bowring.

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Under thy sod, earth, receive our treasure,
To rest in God, waiting all his pleasure.
3 Though we may mourn those in life the
[pearest !
They shall return, Christ, when thou ap-
Soon shall thy voice comfort those now
Bidding rejoice all in Jesus sleeping.

Edward A. Dayman.


D. C.


The sands of time are

day-spring is

sighed for, The fair, sweet morn a

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sinking; The dawn of heav-en breaks; The summer morn I've

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2 Oh, Christ! he is the fountain, The deep, sweet well of love; The streams on earth I've tasted, More deep I'll drink above; There to an ocean fullness

46 'Emmanuel's Land."

THE sands of time are sinking;

The dawn of heaven breaks;
The summer morn I've sighed for,
The fair, sweet morn awakes.
Dark, dark hath been the midnight;
But dayspring is at hand,
And glory-glory dwelleth

In Immanuel's land.

His mercy doth expand, And glory-glory dwelleth In Immanuel's land.

at hand, And glory-glory dwell-eth In Immanuel's land.

3 With mercy and with judgment
My web of time he wove,
And aye the dews of sorrow
Were lustered by his love;
I'll bless the hand that guided,

wakes. Dark, dark hath been the mid- night; But

I'll bless the heart that planned, When throned where glory dwelleth, In Immanuel's land.


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Mrs. Anne R. Cousin.


1161 "is House of Wine."
OH, Christ, he is the fountain,

The deep, sweet well of love! The streams on earth I've tasted, More deep I'll drink above: There to an ocean fullness

His mercy doth expand, And glory-glory dwelleth In Immanuel's land.

2 Oh, I am my Belovéd's,
And my Belovéd's mine!
He brings a poor vile sinner
Into his "house of wine!"
I stand upon his merit,

I know no other stand,
Not ev'n where glory dwelleth
In Immanuel's land.

3 The bride eyes not her garment, But her dear Bridegroom's face; I will not gaze at glory,

But on my King of Grace-
Not at the crown he giveth,
But on his piercéd hand-
The Lamb is all the glory
Of Immanuel's land.

Mrs. Anne R. Cousin.

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