Psalms and Hymns Index
Van Deusen/Kosinski Collection

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HYMN 126. C.M.
Funeral Hymn - Victory over Death. (cont.)

  5 Receive this nobler part of me,
   And watch my sleeping dust:
  6 Till that illustrious morning come,
   When all thy saints shall rise,
And cloth'd in full, immortal bloom,
   Attend thee to the skies.
  7 When thy triumphant armies sing
   The honour of thy name;
And heav'n's eternal arches ring
   With glory to the Lamb:
  8 O let me join th' enraptur'd lays,
   And with the blissful throng,
Resound salvation, pow'r, and praise,
   In everlasting song!

HYMN 127. C.M.
Funeral Hymn - Death of a young child.

  1 ALAS! how chang'd that lovely flow'r,
   Which bloom'd and cheer'd my heart
Fair fleeting comfort of an hour,
   How soon we're call'd to part!
  2 And shall my bleeding heart arraign
   That God, whose ways are love?
Or vainly cherish anxious pain
   For her who rests above?
  3 No! let me rather humbly pay
   Obedience to his will,
And with my inmost spirit say,
   "The Lord is righteous still."
  4 From adverse blasts, and lowering storms,
   Her favour'd soul he bore;
And with yon bright, angelic forms,
   She lives, to die no more.
  5 Why should I vex my heart, or fast?
   No more she'll visit me;

PAGE 441

HYMN 127. C.M.
Funeral Hymn - Death of a young child. (cont.)

  5 My soul will mount to her at last,
   And there my child I'll see.
  6 Prepare me, blessed Lord, to share
   The bliss thy people prove;
Who round thy glorious throne appear,
   And dwell in perfect love.

HYMN 128. C.M.
Funeral Hymn - Comfort for pious Parents bereaved of their children.

  1 YE mourning saints, whose streaming tears
   Flow o'er your children dead;
Say not, in transports of despair,
   That all your hopes are fled.
  2 If cleaving to that darling dust,
   In fond distress ye lie,
Rise, and with joy and rev'rence view
   A heav'nly parent nigh.
  3 Tho', your young branches torn away,
   Like wither'd trunks ye stand;
With fairer verdure shall ye bloom,
   Touch'd by the Almighty's hand.
  4 "I'll give the mourner," saith the Lord,
   "In my own house a place:
"No names of daughters nor of sons
   "Could yield so high a grace.
  5 "Transient and vain is ev'ry hope
   "A rising race can give:
"In endless honour and delight
   "My children all shall live."
  6 We welcome, Lord, those rising tears,
   Thro' which thy face we see;
And bless those wounds, which thro' our hearts
   Prepare a way for thee.


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