CLXIV.

OFT as the bell, with solemn toll,
Speaks the departure of a soul,
Let each one ask himself, “Am I
Prepar'd, should I be call'd to die?"

Only this frail and fleeting breath
Preserves me from the jaws of death :
Soon as it fails, at once I'm gone,
And plunged into a world unknown-

Then, leaving all I lov'd below,
To God's tribunal I must go ;
Must hear the Judge pronounce my fate,
And fix my everlasting state.

But could I bear to hear him say,
“Depart, accursed, far away!
With Satan, in the lowest hell,
Thou art for ever doom'd to dwell !”

Lord Jesus ! help me now to flee,
And seek my hope alone in Thee :
Apply thy blood, thy Spirit give,
Subdue my sin, and let me live-

Then, when the solemn bell I hear,
If sav'd from guilt, I need not fear ;
Nor would the thought distressing be,
“Perhaps it next may toll for me!”

Rather, my spirit would rejoice;
And long, and wish, to hear thy voice-
Glad when it bids me earth resign,
Secure of heaven, if Thou art mine.

CLXV.

WHEN faith and love, which parted from thee never,

Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God,

Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load Of death, called life ; which us from life doth sever. Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour,

Staid not behind, nor in the grave were trod;

But, as faith pointed with her golden rod, Followed thee up to joy and bliss for ever! Love led them on, and faith, who knew them best,

Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with purple beams And azure wings, that up they flew so dressed, And spake the truth of thee in glorious themes

Before the Judge; who thenceforth bid thee rest, And drink thy fill of pure

CLXVI.

When musing sorrow weeps the past,

And mourns the present pain, How sweet to think of peace at last,

And feel that death is gain !

'Tis not, that murm’ring thoughts arise,

And dread a Father's will; 'Tis not, that meek submission flies,

And would not suffer still :

It is, that heaven-born Faith surveys

The path to realms of light;
And longs her eagle plumes to raise,

And lose herself in sight:

It is, that Hope with ardour glows

To see Him face to face, Whose dying love no language knows

Sufficient art to trace:

It is, that harass'd Conscience feels

The pangs of struggling sin; Sees, from afar, the hand which heals,

And ends her wars within.

Oh let me wing my hallow'd flight,

From earth-born woe and care, And soar above these clouds of night,

My Saviour's bliss to share !

CLXVII.

These hearts, alas ! cleave to the dust

By strong and endless ties; Whilst every sorrow cuts a string,

And urges us to rise.

When heaven would kindly set us free,

And earth’s enchantment end, It takes the most effectual way,

And robs us of a friend.

Resign--and all the load of life

That moment you remove;
Its heavy load, ten thousand cares,

Devolve on One above

Who bids us lay our burden down

On His Almighty hand; Softens our duty to relief,

To blessing a command.

CLXVIII.

EARTH! guard what here we lay in holy trust;

That which hath left our home a darkened place, Wanting the form, the smile, now veiled in dust,

The light departed with our loveliest face.
Yet from thy bonds undying hope springs free
We have but lent our beautiful to thee.

But thou, oh heaven! keep, keep what thou hast taken,

And with our tears O keep our hearts on high! The spirit meek, and yet by pain unshaken,

The faith, the love, the lofty constancy, Guide us where these are with our sister flown They were of Thee, and thou hast claimed thine own.

CLXIX.

FORGIVE, blest shade, the tributary tear,

That mourns thy exit from a world like this; Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here,

And stayed thy progress to the seats of bliss.
No more confined to grovelling scenes of night,

No more a tenant pent in mortal clay;
Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight,

And track thy journey to the realms of day.