Psalms and Hymns Index
Van Deusen/Kosinski Collection

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PAGE 442:

HYMN 129. C.M.
Funeral Hymn - Submission under bereaving Providence.

  1 PEACE, 'tis the Lord Jehovah's hand
   That blasts our joys in death;
Changes the visage once so dear,
   And gathers back the breath.
  2 'Tis he, the Potentate supreme
   Of all the worlds above,
Whose steady counsels wisely rule,
   Nor from their purpose move.
  3 'Tis he, whose justice might demand
   Our souls a sacrifice;
Yet scatters with unwearied hand
   A thousand rich supplies.
  4 Our cov'nant God and Father he,
   In Christ our bleeding Lord;
Whose grace can heal the bursting heart
   With one reviving word.
  5 Silent we own Jehovah's name,
   We kiss the scourging hand:
And yield our comforts and our life
   To thy supreme command.

HYMN 130. C.M.
Funeral Hymn - A Saint prepared to die.

  1 DEATH may dissolve my body now,
   And bear my spirit home;
Why do my minutes move so slow,
   Nor my salvation come?
  2 With hcav'nly weapons, I have fought
   The battles of the Lord;
Finish'd my course, and kept the faith,
   And wait the sure reward.
  3 God hath laid up in hcav'n for me
   A crown which cannot fade;

PAGE 443

HYMN 130. C.M.
Funeral Hymn - A Saint prepared to die. (cont.)

  3 The righteous Judge, at that great day,
   Shall place it on my head.
  4 Nor hath the King of grace decreed
   This prize for me alone;
But all that love and long to see
   Th' appearance of his Son.
  5 Jesus, the Lord, shall guard me safe
   From ev'ry ill design;
And to his heav'nly kingdom take
   This feeble soul of mine.
  6 God is my everlasting aid,
   And hell shall rage in vain;
To him be highest glory paid,
   And endless praise. Amen.

HYMN 131. C.M.
Funeral Hymn - A voice from the tombs.

  1 HARK! from the tombs a doleful sound;
   My ears attend the cry:
"Ye living men, come view the ground,
   "Where you must shortly lie.
  2 "Princes, this clay must be your bed,
   "In spite of all your tow'rs!
"The tall, the wise, the rev'rend head
   "Must lie as low as ours."
  3 Great God! is this our certain doom?
   And are we still secure?
Still walking downward to the tomb,
   And yet prepare no more?
  4 Grant us the pow'r of quick'ning grace,
   To fit our souls to fly;
Then, when we drop this dying flesh,
   We'll rise above the sky.


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