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3 Well-pleased the husbandmen behold
The waving yellow crop ;
With joy they bear the sheaves away,
And sow again in hope.

4 Thus teach me, gracious God! to sow
The seeds of righteousness;

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Smile on my soul, and, with thy beams,
The ripening harvest bless.

HYMN 614, C. M.

Seed Time and Harvest.

FOUNTAIN of mercy, God of love!

How rich thy bounties are;
The changing seasons, as they move
Proclaim thy constant care.

2 When, in the bosom of the earth,
The sower hid the grain,

Thy goodness marked its secret birth,
And sent the early rain.

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3 The spring's sweet influence, Lord! was thine ;
The plants in beauty grew;

Thou gav'st refulgent suns to shine,
And soft refreshing dew.

4 These varied mercies, from above,
Matured the swelling grain:

A kindly harvest crowns thy love,
And plenty fills the plain.

5 We own and bless thy gracious sway,
Thy hand all nature hails :
Seed time nor harvest, night nor day,
Summer nor winter, fails.

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HYMN 615, C. M.

Fruitful Seasons from God.

THOU who givést all their food!-
Causing thy sun to shine

Upon the evil and the good,—
Earth's teeming stores are thine.

2 Thy covenant to man secures

The harvest of his toil

Thy faithful word, while earth endures,
With plenty clothes the soil.

3 The wintry frost, the flowery prime,
Alike thy laws obey:

Each herb and blossom knows its time,
And feels the quickening ray.

4 Revolving seasons still proclaim
Thine all-sustaining word;

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Seed time and harvest speak thy name,-
The promise-keeping Lord.

AWAKE

HYMN 616, C. M.

Close of the Year.

WAKE ye saints! and raise your eyes,
And raise your voices high:

Awake, and praise that sovereign love,
That shows salvation nigh.

mf 2 On all the wings of time it flies,
Each moment brings it near;
Then welcome each declining day,
Welcome each closing year.

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3 Not many years their rounds shall run,
Nor many mornings rise,

Ere all its glories stand revealed
To our admiring eyes.

4 Ye wheels of nature! speed your course,
Ye mortal powers! decay;

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Fast as ye bring the night of death,
Ye bring eternal day.

THEE

HYMN 617, C. M.

Time short-Man frail.

EE we adore, eternal Name!
And humbly own to thee,

How feeble is our mortal frame,
What dying worms are we!

2 The year rolls round, and steals away
The breath that first it gave:

Whate'er we do, where'er wẹ be,
We're traveling to the grave.

3 Good God! on what a slender thread
Hang everlasting things!
Th' eternal state of all the dead,
Upon life's feeble strings.

4 Infinite joy, or endless woe,
Attends on every breath,-

And yet, how unconcerned we go,
Upon the brink of death!

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5 Waken, O Lord! our drowsy sense,
To walk this dangerous road;
And if our souls are hurried hence,
May they be found with God.

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DEATH.

HYMN 618, L. M.

Death and Burial of Saints.

UNVEIL thy bosom, faithful tomb!

Take this new treasure to thy trust,
And give these sacred relics room,
To seek a slumber in the dust.

2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear,
Invade thy bounds;-no mortal woes
Can reach the peaceful sleeper here,

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While angels watch the soft repose.
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Passed through the grave, and blessed 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.

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HYMN 619, 8s and 7s.

Mourners Comforted.

CEASE, ye mourners! cease to languish,

the grave of those you love;

Pain, and death, and night, and anguish,
Enter not the world above.

2 While our silent steps are straying,

Lonely, through night's deepening shade,
Glory's brightest beam
playing

Round th' immortal spirit's head.

mf 3 Light and peace at once deriving,
From the hand of God most high,
In his glorious presence living,
They shall never-never die.

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Sickness there, no more can come;
There, no fear of woe, intruding,

Sheds o'er heaven a moment's gloom.

5 Now, ye mourners! cease to languish,
O'er the grave of those you love;
Far removed from pain and anguish,
They are chanting hymns above.

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HYMN 620, C. M.

Dying in the Lord.

1 HEAR what the voice from heaven proclaims
For all the pious dead;-

"Sweet is the savor of their names,
And soft their sleeping-bed.

2 "They die in Jesus, and are blessed,—
How kind their slumbers are!

From sufferings, and from sins, released,
And freed from every snare.

3 "Far from this world of toil and strife,
They 're present with the Lord;
The labors of their mortal life

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End in a large reward.”

HYMN 621, C. M.

Mourning with Hope.

WHY should

HY should our tears in sorrow flow,
When God recalls his own;

And bids them leave a world of woe,

For an immortal crown?

2 Is not e'en death a gain to those,
Whose life to God was given?
Gladly to earth their eyes they close,
To open them in heaven.

3 Their toils are past--their work is done,
And they are fully blest;

They fought the fight, the vict'ry won,
And entered into rest.

4 Then let our sorrows cease to flow,-
God has recalled his own;

But let our hearts, in every woe,
Thy will be done!"

Still say,

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HYMN 622, C. M.

Prayer in View of Death.

aff 1 WHEN, bending o'er the brink of life,

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My trembling soul shall stand,
Waiting to pass death's awful flood,
Great God! at thy command ;—

2 When every long-loved scene of life
Stands ready to depart;

When the last sigh, that shakes the frame,
Shall rend this bursting heart;-

3 O thou great Source of joy supreme!
Whose arm alone can save,-
Dispel the darkness, that surrounds
The entrance to the grave.

4 Lay thy supporting, gentle hand
Beneath my sinking head;
And, with a ray of love divine,
Illume my dying bed.

5 Leaning on thy dear faithful breast,
May I resign my breath,

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And, in thy fond embraces, lose
"The bitterness of death."

HOW

HYMN 623, S. M.

Reflections on past Generations.

OW swift the torrent rolls,
That bears us to the sea!

The tide which hurries thoughtless souls
To vast eternity!

2 Our fathers!-where are they,

With all they called their own?—

Their joys and griefs--and hopes and cares,
And wealth and honor-gone!

8 But joy or grief succeeds

Beyond our mortal thought,

While still the remnant of their dust

Lies in the grave forgot.

4 There, where the fathers lie,

Must all the children dwell;

Nor other heritage possess,
But such a gloomy cell.

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