CLV.

How sweet the hour of closing day,
When all is peaceful and serene ;
And the broad sun's retiring ray
Sheds a mild lustre o'er the scene!

Such is the Christian's parting hour,
So peacefully he sinks to rest;

When faith, endued from heaven with power,
Strengthens and cheers his languid breast.

Mark but that radiance of his

eye,

That smile upon his wasted cheek!

They tell us of his glory nigh,

In language which no tongue can speak!

A beam from heaven is sent to cheer
The pilgrim on his gloomy road;
And angels are attending near,
To bear him to their bright abode.

Who would not wish to die like those
Whom God's own Spirit deigns to bless!
To sink into that soft repose,
Then wake to perfect happiness!

CLVI.

"SERVANT of God, well done!
Rest from thy lov'd employ :
The battle fought, the vict'ry won,
Enter thy Master's joy"-
The voice at midnight came,
He started up to hear;

A mortal arrow pierc'd his frame,
He fell-but felt no fear.

Tranquil amidst alarms,

It found him on the field,
A veteran slumb'ring on his arms,
Beneath his red-cross shield.
His sword was in his hand,
Still warm with recent fight,
Ready that moment, at command,
Through rock and steel to smite.

It was a two-edg'd blade,
Of heavenly temper keen ;

And double were the wounds it made,
Where'er it glanc'd between.
"Twas death to sin-'twas life
To all who mourn'd for sin :
It kindled and it silenc'd strife-
war and peace within.

Made

Oft with its fiery force

His arm had quell'd the foe, And laid, resistless in his course, The alien-armies low.

Bent on such glorious toils,

The world to him was loss: Yet all his trophies, all his spoils, He hung upon the Cross.

At midnight came the cry,
"To meet thy God prepare!"

He woke and caught his Captain's eye!
Then, strong in faith and prayer,
His spirit, with a bound,

Left its encumb'ring clay!

His tent, at sunrise, on the ground,
A darken'd ruin lay.

The pains of death are past,
Labour and sorrow cease;

And life's long warfare clos'd at last,
His soul is found in peace.
Soldier of Christ, well done!
Praise be thy new employ;
And while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour's joy!

CLVII.

REST from thy labour, rest, Soul of the just, set free! Blest be thy memory, and blest Thy bright example be.

Faith, perseverance, zeal, Language of light and power, Love, prompt to act and quick to feel, Mark'd thee, till life's last hour.

Now, toil and conflict o'er,
Go, take with saints thy place:
But go as each hath gone before,
A sinner saved by grace.

Lord Christ! into thy hands.
Our pastor we resign:

And now we wait thy own commands;
We were not HIS, but THINE.

Thou art thy Church's Head; And when the members die, Thou raisest others in their stead: To Thee we lift our eye;