1 THRO' Sorrow's night, and danger's path,
Amid the deepening gloom,
We, followers of our suffering Lord,
Are marching to the tomb.

2 There, when the turmoil is no more,
And all our powers decay,
Our cold remains in solitude
Shall sleep the years away.
3 Our labors done, securely laid
In this our last retreat,
Unheeded o'er our silent dust

The storms of earth shall beat.

4 Yet not thus buried or extinct,
The vital spark shall lie:

For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise
To seek its kindred sky.

5 These ashes, too, this little dust,
Our Father's care shall keep,
Till the last angel rise and break
The long and dreary sleep.

6 Then love's soft dew o'er every eye
Shall shed its mildest rays,
And the long-silent voice awake
With shouts of endless praise.

1 WHEN downward to the darksome tomb I thoughtful turn my eyes,

2

Frail nature trembles at the gloom,
And anxious fears arise.

Why shrinks my soul?-in death's em-
brace

Once Jesus captive slept;

And angels, hovering o'er the place,
His lowly pillow kept.

3 Thus shall they guard my sleeping dust, And, as the Saviour rose,

The grave again shall yield her trust,
And end my deep repose.

4 My Lord, before to glory gone,
Shall bid me come away;

And calm and bright shall break the dawn
Of heaven's eternal day.

5 Then let my faith each fear dispel,
And gild with light the grave;
To him my loftiest praises swell,
Who died from death to save.

1 "FOREVER with the Lord!"

So, Jesus! let it be;

Life from the dead is in that word; 'T is immortality.

2 Here, in the body pent,

Absent from thee I roam :
Yet nightly pitch my moving tent
A day's march nearer home.

3 My Father's house on high,

Home of my soul! how near,
At times, to faith's aspiring eye,
Thy golden gates appear!
4 "Forever with the Lord!"

Father, if 't is thy will,
The promise of thy gracious word
Ev'n here to me fulfill.

5 So, when my latest breath

Shall rend the vail in twain,

By death I shall escape from death,
And life eternal gain.

6 Knowing as I am known,

How shall I love that word, And oft repeat before the throne, "Forever with the Lord!"

2 Their bodies in the ground,
In silent hope may lie,
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound
Shall call them to the sky.

3 Their ransomed spirits soar

On wings of faith and love,
To meet the Saviour they adore,
And reign with him above.

4 With us their names shall live

Through long succeeding years, Embalmed with all our hearts can give, Our praises and our tears.

1 How swift the torrent rolls,
That bears us to the sea!

The tide which hurries thoughtless souls
To vast eternity!

2 Our fathers, where are they,

With all they called their own?

Their joys and griefs, and hopes and cares,
And wealth and honor gone!

3 God of our fathers hear,

Thou everlasting Friend!

While we, as on life's utmost verge,

Our souls to thee commend.

4 Of all the pious dead

May we the footsteps trace,

Till with them, in the land of light,
We dwell before thy face.

1 Ir is not death to die-
To leave this weary road,

And 'mid the brotherhood on high,
To be at home with God.

2 It is not death to close

The eye long dimmed by tears,
And wake, in glorious repose
To spend eternal years.

3 It is not death to bear

The wrench that sets us free

From dungeon chain,-to breathe the air

Of boundless liberty.

4 It is not death to fling

Aside this sinful dust,

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

5 Jesus, thou Prince of life!

Thy chosen cannot die;

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

3 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 :—

4 Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that blest day;
Oh, wash me in thy precious blood,
And take my sins away!

1 REST for the toiling hand,
Rest for the anxious brow,
Rest for the weary, way-worn feet,
Rest from all labor now ;-

2 Rest for the fevered brain,

Rest for the throbbing eye;

Thro' these parched lips of thine no more
Shall pass the moan or sigh.

3 Soon shall the trump of God

Give out the welcome sound,
That shakes thy silent chamber-walls,
And breaks the sealed ground.

4 Ye dwellers in the dust,

Awake! come forth and sing;
Sharp has your frost of winter been,
But bright shall be your spring.

5 'Twas sown in weakness here:
'T will then be raised in power;
That which was sown an earthly seed,
Shall rise a heavenly flower!

2

1208.

Ps. 102: 24.

1 Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime! In full activity of zeal and power; A Christian cannot die before his time; The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour.

2 Go to the grave; at noon from labor

cease;

Rest on thy sheaves, thy harvest-task is

done;

Come from the heat of battle, and in

peace,

Soldier! go home; with thee the fight is

won.

3 Go to the grave, which, faithful to its trust,

The germ of immortality shall keep; While, safe as watched by cherubim, thy dust

Shall to the judgment-day in Jesus sleep. 4 Go to the grave, for there thy Saviour lay

In death's embraces, ere he rose on high; And all the ransomed, by that narrow way,

Pass to eternal life beyond the sky.

5 Go to the grave? no, take thy seat above!

Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord, Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love,

And make us feel, that we may see, thy

heaven.