3 Thou art gone to the grave! and, its mansion forsaking,
Perhaps thy weak spirit in fear lingered long;
But the mild rays of Paradise beamed on thy waking, And the sound which thou heard'st was the seraphim’s song.
Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee,
Whose God was thy Ransom, thy Guardian, and
Guide.
He gave thee, He took thee, and He will restore thee:
And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died.
I UNVEIL thy bosom, faithful tomb;
Take this new treasure to thy trust,
And give these sacred relics room
To slumber in the silent dust.
2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear
Invades thy bounds; no mortal woes
Can reach the peaceful sleeper here,
While angels watch the soft repose.
3 So Jesus slept; God's dying Son
Passed through the grave, and blest the bed :
Rest here, blest saint, till from His throne
The morning break, and pierce the shade.
4 Break from His throne, illustrious morn;
Attend, O earth, His sovereign word;
Restore thy trust; a glorious form
Shall then arise to meet the Lord.
I WHAT sinners value I resign;
Lord, 'tis enough that Thou art mine;
I shall behold Thy blissful face,
And stand complete in righteousness.
2 This life's a dream--an empty show;
But that bright world to which I go
Hath joys substantial and sincere:
When shall I wake and find me there?
3 O glorious hour! O blest abode !
I shall be near and like my God,
And flesh and sin no more control
The sacred pleasures of my soul.
4 My flesh shall slumber in the ground
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound,
Then burst the chains, with glad surprise,
And in my Saviour's image rise.
1 WHY do we mourn departing friends,
Or shake at death's alarms?
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to His arms.
2 Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb ?
'Twas there the flesh of Jesus lay,
And left a long perfume.
The graves of all the saints He blest,
And softened every bed;
Where should the dying members rest
But with their dying Head?
4 Thence He arose, ascending high,
And showed our feet the way;
Up to the Lord our souls shall fly,
At the great rising day.
I WHY should we start, and fear to die!
What timorous worms we mortals are!
Death is the gate of endless joy,
And yet we dread to enter there.
2 The pains, the groans, and dying strife
Fright our approaching souls away;
Still we shrink back again to life,
Fond of our prison and our clay.
3 O, if my Lord would come and meet,
My soul should stretch her wings in haste,
Fly, fearless, through death's iron gate,
Nor feel the terrors as she passed.
4 Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on His breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.
I CHRIST is coming! let creation
Bid her groans and travail cease:
Let the glorious proclamation
Hope restore and faith increase;
Christ is coming!
Come, thou blessèd Prince of Peace!
2 Long thy exiles have been pining,
Far from rest, and home, and thee:
But in heavenly vesture shining,
Soon they shall thy glory see;
Christ is coming!
Haste the joyous jubilee.
3 With that "blessed hope
Let no harp remain unstrung;
Let the mighty advent chorus
Onward roll from tongue to tongue;
Christ is coming!
Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come.
I Lo! what a glorious sight appears
To our believing eyes!
The earth and seas are passed away,
And the old rolling skies.
2 From the third heaven, where God resides-
That holy, happy place,-
The New Jerusalem comes down,
Adorned with shining grace.
3 Attending angels shout for joy,
And the bright armies sing,-
Mortals! behold the sacred seat
Of your descending King.
4 "His own soft hand shall wipe the tears
From every weeping eye;
And pains and groans and griefs and fears,
And death itself shall die!"
5 How long, dear Saviour, O, how long
Shall this bright hour delay?
Fly swifter round, ye wheels of time,
And bring the welcome day.
I Now to the Lord, who makes us know
The wonders of His dying love,
Be humble honours paid below,
And strains of nobler praise above.
2 "Twas He who cleansed us from our sins,
And washed us in His precious blood;
"Tis He who makes us priests and kings,
And brings us, rebels, near to God.
3 Behold, on flying clouds He comes,
And every eye shall see Him move;
Though with our sins we pierced Him once,
Now He displays His pardoning love.
4 The unbelieving world shall wail,
While we rejoice to see the day :
Come, Lord, nor let Thy promise fail,
Nor let Thy chariot long delay.
1 REJOICE, rejoice, believers!
And let your lights appear!
The shades of eve are thickening,
And darker night is near;
The Bridegroom is advancing;
Each hour He draws more nigh;
Up! watch and pray, nor slumber;
At midnight comes the cry.
2 See that your lamps are burning,
Your vessels filled with oil;
Wait calmly your deliverance
From earthly pain and toil.
The watchers on the mountains
Proclaim the Bridegroom near,
Go, meet Him, as He cometh,
With hallelujahs clear.
3 Our hope and expectation,
O Jesus, now appear!
Arise, thou Sun so looked-for,
O'er this benighted sphere!
With hearts and hands uplifted,
We plead, O Lord, to see
The day of our redemption,
And ever be with Thee.
-Hymns from the Land of Luther.
I THE Lord will come; the earth shall quake;
The hills their ancient seats forsake;
And, withering, from the vault of night,
The stars withdraw their feeble light.
2 The Lord will come; but not the same
As once in lowly form He came,—
A quiet Lamb to slaughter led,-
The bruised, the suffering, and the dead.
The Lord will come; a dreadful form,
With wreath of flame, and robe of storm,
On cherub wings, and wings of wind,
Anointed Judge of human kind.
4 Can this be He who wont to stray
A pilgrim on the world's highway,
By power oppressed, and mocked by pride?
O God, is this the Crucified?
5 Go, tyrants, to the rocks complain;
Go seek the mountain's cleft in vain ;
But faith, victorious o'er the tomb,
Shall sing for joy, "The Lord is come.
I WATCHMAN! tell us of the night,
What its signs of promise are.
Traveller! o'er yon mountain's height,
See that glory-beaming star.
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