And praise Him for his mercies past,
And trust his promised word!

HYMN 112.

(L. M.

HONITON.)

The martyrdom of St. Stephen. Acts vii. 54, &c. 1 As some tall rock amidst the waves The fury of the tempest braves,

While the fierce billows, toss'd on high,
Break at its foot, and murmuring die :---

2 Thus they, who in the Lord confide,
Though foes assault on every side,
Cannot be moved or overthrown;
For Jesus makes their cause his own.

3 So faithful Stephen, undismay'd,
The malice of the Jews survey'd ;
The holy joy which fill'd his breast
A lustre on his face impress'd.

4 "Behold!" he said, "the world of light
"Is open'd to my strengthen'd sight!
"My glorious Lord appears in view ;
"That Jesus whom ye lately slew."

5 With such a Friend and Witness near,
No form of death could make him fear;
Calm amidst showers of stones he kneels,
And only for his murderers feels.

6 May we by faith perceive Thee thus,
Bless'd Saviour! ever near to us:
This sight our peace through life shall keep,
And death be fear'd no more than sleep.

HYMN 113.

(C. M. MESSIAH.)

On the death of a minister.

1 His master taken from his head,*
Elisha saw him go,

And in desponding accents said,
"Ah! what must Israel do ?"

2 But he forgot the Lord, who lifts
The beggar to the throne,
Nor knew that all Elijah's gifts
Would soon be made his own.

3 What! when a Paul has run his
Or when Apollos dies,

Is Israel left without resource,
And has she no supplies?

course,

4 Yes; while the great Redeemer lives
We have a boundless store,
And shall be fed by what He gives,
Who reigns for evermore!

1

(C. M.

HYMN 114.

BIRMINGHAM.)

Death sudden and dreadful to the unrepenting sinner. "My barns are full, my stores increase,

"And now for many years,

"Soul, eat and drink, and take thine ease, "Secure from want and fears."+

2 Thus spake the thoughtless sinner once, As many now presume,

And heard the Lord Himself pronounce His sudden, awful, doom!

* 2 Kings ii. 5. † Luke xii. 19.

3 "Thou fool! this night thy soul must pass "Into a world unknown:

"And who shall then the stores possess, "Which thou hast call'd thine own?" 4 Thus blinded mortals fondly scheme For scenes of bliss below,

Till death disturb the pleasing dream,
And they awake to woe.

5 Ah! who can speak the vast dismay,
That fills the sinner's mind,

When, torn by death's strong hand away,
He leaves his all behind?

6 Lord! grant us wisdom to refuse
The trifles of a day;

And learn that better part to choose,
Which none can take away.

HYMN 115.

(C. M. BATH.)

A happy death the portion only of the righteous.

1 How blest the righteous are,

When they resign their breath!
No wonder Balaam wish'd to share
The joys of such a death.

2 "Oh! let me die," said he,

"The death the righteous do! "When life is ended, let me be "Found with the faithful few !"*

3 But ah! such wish was vain; His heart was insincere ;

* Num. xxiii. 10.

He thirsted for unlawful gain,
And sought his portion here.
4. He seem'd the Lord to know,
And to offend Him loath;
But mammon proved his overthrow !
For none can serve them both.

5 Eternal God! may I

Warning from hence receive!
If, like the righteous, I would die,
Like them I now must live.

HYMN 116.

(C. M. OTFORD.)

Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.

1 In vain our fancy strives to paint
The moment after death,

The glories that surround the saint,
When he resigns his breath.

2 One gentle sigh his fetters breaks;
We scarce can say, "he's gone,"
Before the willing spirit takes
Her mansion near the throne.

3 Faith strives, but all its efforts fail
To trace her heavenward flight:
No eye can pierce within the veil,
Which hides that world of light.

4 Nor eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard, Nor can the heart conceive,

What joys God hath for those prepared

Who in his Son believe.

5 Thus much (and this is all) we know, They are completely blest,

Have done with sin, and care, and woe,
And with their Saviour rest.

1 On harps of gold his name they praise,
His presence always view ;-
And if we here their footsteps trace,
We there shall praise Him too.

HYMN 117.

(c. M. MISSIONARY.)

The triumph of the righteous. 1 Cor. xv. 52, &c. 1 WHEN the Archangel's trump shall sound, And earth's foundation shake,

When opening graves shall yield their dead,
And dust to life awake;-

2 Then, with unfading glory crown'd,
The ransom'd saints shall sing,
"O grave! where is thy victory?
"Ŏ death! where is thy sting?"
3 The sting of death is conscious sin:
Sin arm'd the envenom'd dart:
Sin from the law derives its strength
To pierce the sinner's heart.

4 Thanks be to God for Jesus Christ!
Thanks for his boundless love,

Through which o'er sin, and death, and hell,
We more than conquerors prove!

5 Then let us steadfast still remain,
Though dangers rise around,
And in the work prescribed by God
Yet more and more abound:-