  566. L. M. Bryant."Blessed are they that mourn." 1Deem not that they are blessed alone, Whose days a peaceful tenor keep; The God, who loves our race, has shown A blessing for the eyes that weep. 2The light of smiles shall fill again The lids that overflow with tears, And weary hours of woe and pain Are earnests of serener years. 3O, there are days of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night! Grief may abide, an evening guest, But joy shall come with early light. 4And thou, who o'er thy friend's low bier Sheddest the bitter drops like rain, Hope that a brighter, happier sphere Will give him to thy arms again. 5For God hath marked each anguished day, And numbered every secret tear; And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay For all his children suffer here. 567. 12s. & 11s. M. Heber.Farewell to a Friend Departed. 1Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee; Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb; The Saviour has passed through its portals before thee; And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom. 2Thou art gone to the grave; we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side: But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may hope, since the Saviour hath died. 3Thou art gone to the grave; and, its mansion forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in doubt lingered long; But the sunshine of heaven beamed bright on thy waking, And the sound thou didst hear was the seraphim's song. 4Thou art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore thee; Since God was thy Refuge, thy Guardian, thy Guide; He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore thee; And death has no sting, since the Saviour hath died. 568. C. M. Barbauld.The Mourner's Thoughts of Heaven. 1Not for the pious dead we weep; Their sorrows now are o'er; The sea is calm, the tempest past, On that eternal shore. 2O, might some dream of visioned bliss, Some trance of rapture, show Where, on the bosom of their God, They rest from human woe! 3Thence may their pure devotion's flame On us, on us descend; To us their strong aspiring hopes, Their faith, their fervors lend. 4Let these our shadowy path illume, And teach the chastened mind To welcome all that's left of good, To all that's lost resigned. 569. L. M. Norton.Blessedness of the Pious Dead. 1O, stay thy tears; for they are blest, Whose days are past, whose toil is done: Here midnight care disturbs our rest; Here sorrow dims the noonday sun. 2How blest are they whose transient years Pass like an evening meteor's flight! Not dark with guilt, nor dim with tears; Whose course is short, unclouded, bright. 3O, cheerless were our lengthened way; But Heaven's own light dispels the gloom, Streams downward from eternal day, And casts a glory round the tomb. 4O, stay thy tears: the blest above Have hailed a spirit's heavenly birth, And sung a song of joy and love; Then why should anguish reign on earth? 570. S. M. Mrs. Sigourney."Weep for yourselves, and for your children." 1We mourn for those who toil, The slave who ploughs the main, Or him who hopeless tills the soil Beneath the stripe and chain: For those who, in the race, O'erwearied and unblest, A host of restless phantoms chase;-- Why mourn for those who rest? 2We mourn for those who sin? Bound in the tempter's snare, Whom syren pleasure beckons in To prisons of despair; Whose hearts, by passions torn, Are wrecked on folly's shore;-- But why in sorrow should we mourn For those who sin no more? 3We mourn for those who weep; Whom stern afflictions bend With anguish o'er the lowly sleep Of lover or of friend: But they to whom the sway Of pain and grief is o'er, Whose tears our God hath wiped away, O mourn for them no more! 571. L. M. W. J. Loring."Weep not for me!" 1Why weep for those, frail child of woe, Who've fled and left thee mourning here? Triumphant o'er their latest foe, They glory in a brighter sphere. 2Weep not for them;--beside thee now Perhaps they watch with guardian care, And witness tears that idly flow O'er those who bliss of angels share. 3Or round their Father's throne, above, With raptured voice his praise they sing; Or on his messages of love, They journey with unwearied wing. 4Weep, weep no more; their voices raise The song of triumph high to God; And wouldst thou join their song of praise, Walk humbly in the path they trod. 572. S. H. M. Montgomery.Friends die, but to live again. 1Friend after friend departs; Who hath not lost a friend? There is no union here of hearts, That finds not here an end. Were this frail world our only rest, Living or dying, none were blest. 2There is a world above, Where parting is unknown,-- A whole eternity of love And blessedness alone; And faith beholds the dying here, Translated to that happier sphere. 3Thus, star by star declines Till all are passed away, As morning high and higher shines To pure and perfect day. Nor sink those stars in empty night-- They hide themselves in heaven's own light. 573. C. M. Anonymous.Hope of Reunion above. 1When floating on life's troubled sea, By storms and tempests driven, Hope, with her radiant finger, points To brighter scenes in heaven. 2She bids the storms of life to cease, The troubled breast be calm; And in the wounded heart she pours Religion's healing balm. 3Her hallowed influence cheers life's hours Of sadness and of gloom; She guides us through this vale of tears, To joys beyond the tomb. 4She bids the anguished heart rejoice: Though earthly ties are riven, We still may hope to meet again In yonder peaceful heaven. 574. C. M. Watts.Comfort under Bereavements. 1Why do we mourn departed friends, Or shake at death's alarms? 'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends To call them to his arms. 2Why should we tremble to convey Their bodies to the tomb? There the dear flesh of Jesus lay, And left a long perfume. 3The graves of all his saints he blest, And softened every bed: Where should the dying members rest, But with their dying Head? 575. 11s. & 10s. M. Spiritual Songs.Invitation to the Mercy-seat. 1Come, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish; Come, at the mercy-seat fervently kneel: Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish; Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal. 2Joy of the desolate, light of the straying, Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure, Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying, Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure. 576. 7s. M. J. H. Bancroft.The Christian's Burial. 1Brother, though from yonder sky Cometh neither voice nor cry, Yet we know for thee to-day Every pain hath passed away. 2Not for thee shall tears be given, Child of God and heir of heaven; For he gave thee sweet release; Thine the Christian's death of peace. 3Well we know thy living faith Had the power to conquer death; As a living rose may bloom By the border of the tomb. 4While we weep as Jesus wept, Thou shall sleep as Jesus slept: With thy Saviour thou shalt rest, Crowned, and glorified and blest. 577. C. M. Anonymous.Peaceful Death of the Righteous. 1I looked upon the righteous man, And saw his parting breath, Without a struggle or a sigh, Serenely yield to death: There was no anguish on his brow, Nor terror in his eye; The spoiler aimed a fatal dart, But lost the victory. 2I looked upon the righteous man, And heard the holy prayer Which rose above that breathless form, To soothe the mourners' care, And felt how precious was the gift He to his loved ones gave,-- The stainless memory of the just, The wealth beyond the grave. 3I looked upon the righteous man; And all our earthly trust Of pleasure, vanity, or pride, Seemed lighter than the dust, Compared with his celestial gain,-- A home above the sky: O, grant us, Lord, his life to live, That we like him may die. 578. L. M. Fergus.At a Funeral. 1Farewell! what power of words can tell The sorrows of a last farewell, When, standing by the mournful bier, We mingle with our prayers a tear! 2When memory tells of days gone by, Of blighted hope and vanished joy: Bright hopes that withered like a flower, Cut down and faded in an hour. 3Give forth thy chime, thou solemn bell, Thou grave, unfold thy marble cell; Oh earth! receive upon thy breast The weary trav'ller to his rest. 4Oh God, extend thy arms of love, A spirit seeketh thee above! Ye heav'nly palaces unclose, Receive the weary to repose! 579. C. M. L. H. Sigourney.Burial of a Friend. 1As, bowed by sudden storms, the rose Sinks on the garden's breast, Down to the grave our brother goes, In silence there to rest. 2No more with us his tuneful voice The hymn of praise shall swell; No more his cheerful heart rejoice When peals the Sabbath bell. 3Yet, if, in yonder cloudless sphere Amid a sinless throng, He utters in his Saviour's ear The everlasting song,-- 4No more we'll mourn the absent friend, But lift our earnest prayer, And daily every effort bend To rise and join him there. 580. C. M. Houghton.The Re-union of Friends after Death. 1Blest be the hour when friends shall meet, Shall meet to part no more, And with celestial welcome greet, On an immortal shore. 2Sweet hope, deep cherished, not in vain, Now art thou richly crowned! All that was dead revives again; All that was lost is found! 3The parent eyes his long-lost child; Brothers on brothers gaze: The tear of resignation mild Is changed to joy and praise. 4And while remembrance, lingering still, Draws joy from sorrowing hours; New prospects rise, new pleasures fill The soul's capacious powers. 5Their Father fans their generous flame, And looks complacent down; The smile that owns their filial claim Is their immortal crown. 581. L. M. Anonymous."Not lost, but gone before." 1Say, why should friendship grieve for those Who safe arrive on Canaan's shore? Released from all their hurtful foes, They are not lost--but gone before. 2How many painful days on earth Their fainting spirits numbered o'er! Now they enjoy a heavenly birth; They are not lost--but gone before. 3Dear is the spot where Christians sleep, And sweet the strain which angels pour; O why should we in anguish weep? They are not lost--but gone before. 582. L. M. Epis. Coll.Death of an Infant. 1As the sweet flower that scents the morn, But withers in the rising day, Thus lovely was this infant's dawn, Thus swiftly fled its life away. 2It died ere its expanding soul Had ever burnt with wrong desires, Had ever spurned at Heaven's control, Or ever quenched its sacred fires. 3Yet the sad hour that took the boy Perhaps has spared a heavier doom,-- Snatched him from scenes of guilty joy, Or from the pangs of ills to come. 4He died to sin; he died to care; But for a moment felt the rod; Then, rising on the viewless air, Spread his light wings, and soared to God. 583. L. M. Steele.The Same. 1So fades the lovely, blooming flower, Frail, smiling solace of an hour; So soon our transient comforts fly, And pleasure only blooms to die. 2Is there no kind, no healing art, To soothe the anguish of the heart? Spirit of grace, be ever nigh: Thy comforts are not made to die. 3Let gentle patience smile on pain, Till dying hope revives again; Hope wipes the tear from sorrow's eye, And faith points upward to the sky. 584. C. M. Steele.Death of a Child. 1Life is a span,--a fleeting hour: How soon the vapor flies! Man is a tender, transient flower, That e'en in blooming dies. 2The once-loved form, now cold and dead, Each mournful thought employs; And nature weeps, her comforts fled, And withered all her joys. 3Hope looks beyond the bounds of time, When what we now deplore Shall rise in full, immortal prime, And bloom to fade no more. 4Cease, then, fond nature, cease thy tears; Thy Saviour dwells on high; There everlasting spring appears; There joy shall never die. 585. 7s. & 6s. M. Anonymous.Children in Heaven. 1In the broad fields of heaven,-- In the immortal bowers, By life's clear river dwelling, Amid undying flowers,-- There hosts of beauteous spirits, Fair children of the earth, Linked in bright bands celestial, Sing of their human birth. 2They sing of earth and heaven,-- Divinest voices rise To God, their gracious Father, Who called them to the skies: They all are there,--in heaven,-- Safe, safe, and sweetly blest; No cloud of sin can shadow Their bright and holy rest. 586. S. M. Wilson.Death of a Young Girl. 1What though the stream be dead, Its banks all still and dry! It murmurs o'er a lovelier bed, In air-groves of the sky. 2What though our bird of light Lie mute with plumage dim; In heaven I see her glancing bright, I hear her angel hymn. 3True that our beauteous doe Hath left her still retreat, But purer now in heavenly snow, She lies at Jesus' feet. 4O star! untimely set! Why should we weep for thee! Thy bright and dewy coronet Is rising o'er the sea. 587. 7s. M. Anonymous.Dirge for an Infant. 1Lay her gently in the dust; Grievous task, but oh! ye must! Hear the sentence, "earth to earth, Spirit to immortal birth;" Youthful, gentle, undefiled, Angels nurture now the child! 2Upward soaring, like the dove, Bearing with her chains of love; Not to draw her spirit back, But to smooth her upward track: Her, the youngest of thy fold, Angels watch with love untold! 3With the Rock of Ages trust, That which was enshrined in dust; Robed in ever-spotless white, In an atmosphere of light, By the never-failing springs Rests she now her weary wings. 588. C. M. H. Bacon.Death of a Child. 1Thou gavest, and we yield to thee, God of the human heart! For bitter though grief's cup may be, Thou givest but our part. 2O, thou canst bid our grief be stilled, Yet not rebuke our tears; How large a place his presence filled! How vacant it appears! 3We mourn the sunshine of his smile, The tendrils of his love; Oh, was he loved too well the while Ere he was called above? 4Our chastened spirits bow in prayer, And blend all prayers in one,-- Give us the hope to meet him there, When life's full task is done. 589. C. M. Mrs. Hemans.Death of the Young. 1Calm on the bosom of thy God, Young spirit, rest thee now! E'en while with us thy footsteps trod His seal was on thy brow. 2Dust, to its narrow house beneath! Soul, to its place on high! They that have seen thy look in death, No more may fear to die. 3Lone are the paths, and sad the bowers, Whence thy meek smile is gone; But O, a brighter home than ours, In heaven is now thine own. 590. 8s & 7s. M. S. F. Smith.Death of a Young Girl. 1Sister, thou wast mild and lovely, Gentle as the summer breeze, Pleasant as the air of evening, When it floats among the trees. 2Peaceful be thy silent slumber-- Peaceful in the grave so low: Thou no more wilt join our number; Thou no more our songs shalt know. 3Dearest sister, thou hast left us; Here thy loss we deeply feel; But 'tis God that hath bereft us: He can all our sorrows heal. 4Yet again we hope to meet thee, When the day of life is fled, Then in heaven with joy to greet thee, Where no farewell tear is shed. 591. 8s. & 7s. M. Bap. Memorial.Burial of a Christian Brother. 1Brother, rest from sin and sorrow; Death is o'er and life is won; On thy slumber dawns no morrow: Rest; thine earthly race is run. 2Brother, wake; the night is waning; Endless day is round thee poured; Enter thou the rest remaining For the people of the Lord. 3Brother, wake; for he who loved thee,-- He who died that thou mightst live,-- He who graciously approved thee,-- Waits thy crown of joy to give. 4Fare thee well; though woe is blending With the tones of earthly love, Triumph high and joy unending Wait thee in the realms above. 592. 10s. M. Montgomery.Death of a Christian in his prime. 1Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime, In full activity of zeal and power; A Christian cannot die before his time, The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour. 2Go to the grave; at noon from labor cease; Rest on thy sheaves, thy harvest task is done; Come from the heat of battle and in peace, Soldier, go home; with thee the fight is won. 3Go to the grave, for there thy Saviour lay In death's embraces, ere he rose on high; And all the ransomed, by that narrow way, Pass to eternal life beyond the sky. 4Go to the grave:--no, take thy seat above; Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord, Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love, And open vision for the written word. 593. S. M. Montgomery.On the Death of an aged Christian. "I have fought a good fight; I have finished my course." 1Servant of God, well done! Rest from thy loved employ: The battle fought, the victory won, Enter thy Master's joy. The voice at midnight came, He started up to hear; A mortal arrow pierced his frame-- He fell, but felt no fear. 2Tranquil amidst alarms, It found him on the field, A veteran slumbering on his arms, Beneath his red-cross shield His spirit, with a bound, Burst its encumbering clay; His tent, at sunrise, on the ground, A darkened ruin lay. 3The pains of death are past, Labor and sorrow cease, And, life's long warfare closed 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. Death of a Christian. 1Dear as thou wert, and justly dear, We will not weep for thee: One thought shall check the starting tear It is, that thou art free. 2And thus shall faith's consoling power The tears of love restrain: O, who that saw thy parting hour Could wish thee here again! 3Triumphant in thy closing eye The hope of glory shone; Joy breathed in thy expiring sigh, To think the race was run. 4The passing spirit gently fled, Sustained by grace divine; O, may such grace on us be shed, And make our end like thine. 595. L. M. Fawcett.Death of Parents. 1The God of mercy will indulge The flowing tear, the heaving sigh, When honored parents fall around, When friends beloved and kindred die. 2Yet not one anxious, murmuring thought Should with our mourning passions blend; Nor should our bleeding hearts forget Their mighty, ever-living Friend. 3Parent, Protector, Guardian, Guide, Thou art each tender name in one; On thee we cast our every care, And comfort seek from thee alone. 4To thee, our Father, would we look, Our Rock, our Portion, and our Friend, And on thy gracious love and truth With humble, steadfast hope depend. 596. 7s. M. H. S. Washburn.The Pastor's Funeral. 1Father, gathered round the bier, Aid thy weeping children here; All our stricken hearts deplore Loss of him we meet no more. 2Tender are the rites we pay, Pastor, o'er thy sleeping clay; We, who late the welcome gave, Must we bear thee to thy grave? 3Earth, unto thy faithful trust, We commit this precious dust, There, by pain no more oppressed, Brother, thou wilt sweetly rest. 4Glorious will that morning break, When the dead in Christ shall wake; Joy and grief our bosoms swell, Brother, pastor, guide, farewell. 597. P. M. Anonymous.Death of a Minister. 1On Zion's holy walls Is quenched a beacon-light, In vain the watchman calls-- "Sentry! what of the night?" No answering voice is here, Say--does the soldier sleep? O yes--upon the bier, His watch no more to keep. 2Still is that heaven-touched tongue, Pulseless the throbbing breast; That voice with music strung, Forever put to rest. To rest? A living thought, Undimmed, unquenched, he soars An essence, spirit-wrought, Of yon immortal shores. 3Peace to thee, man of God! Thine earthly toils are o'er, The thorny path is trod, The Shepherd trod before,-- Full well he kept his word-- "I'm with thee to the end; Fear not! I am the Lord, Thy never-failing friend!" 4We weave no dirge for thee, It should not call a tear To know that thou art free; Thy home--it was not here! Joy to thee, man of God! Thy heaven-course is begun, Unshrinking, thou has trod Death's vale,--thy race is run. 598. 8s. & 7s. M. L. H. Sigourney.The Same. 1Pastor, thou art from us taken In the glory of thy years, As the oak, by tempests shaken, Falls ere time its verdure sears. 2Pale and cold we see thee lying In God's temple, once so dear, And the mourner's bitter sighing Falls unheeded on thine ear. 3All thy love and zeal, to lead us Where immortal fountains flow, And on living bread to feed us, In our fond remembrance glow. 4May the conquering faith, that cheered thee When thy foot on Jordan pressed, Guide our spirits while we leave thee In the tomb that Jesus blessed. 599. C. M. Doddridge.The Same. 1What though the arm of conquering death Does God's own house invade; What though our teacher and our friend Is numbered with the dead;-- 2Though earthly shepherds dwell in dust, The aged and the young; The watchful eye in darkness closed, And dumb th' instructive tongue? 3Th' eternal Shepherd still survives, His teaching to impart: Lord, be our Leader and our Guide, And rule and keep our heart. 4Yes, while the dear Redeemer lives, We have a boundless store, And shall be fed with what he gives, Who lives for evermore. 600. 7s. & 6s. M. C. Wesley.Adieu to a Departed Christian Friend. 1Farewell, thou once a mortal, Our poor, afflicted friend; Go, pass the heavenly portal, To God, thy glorious end. 2The Author of thy being Hath summoned thee away; And faith is lost in seeing, And night in endless day. 3With those that went before thee, The saints of ancient days, Who shine in sacred story, Thy soul hath found its place. 4No loss of friends shall grieve thee; That--we alone must bear; They cannot, cannot leave thee, Thy kind companions there. 5From all thy care and sorrow Thou art escaped to-day; And we shall mount to-morrow, And soar to thee away. 601. 7s. M. C. Wesley.The Christian's Death. 1Lo! the prisoner is released, Lightened of his fleshly load; Where the weary are at rest, He is gathered unto God: Lo! the pain of life is past, And his warfare now is o'er; Death and hell behind are cast, Grief and suffering are no more, 2Yes! the Christian's course is run, Ended is the glorious strife; Fought the fight, the crown is won, Death is swallowed up of life; Borne by angels on their wings, Far from earth his spirit flies To the Lord he loved, and sings Triumphing in paradise. 3Join we then with one accord In the new and joyful song; Absent from our glorious Lord We shall not continue long: We shall quit the house of clay, Better joys with him to share; We shall see the realms of day, We shall meet our brethren there. 602. C. M. Knowles.The Mourner Comforted. 1O, weep not for the joys that fade Like evening lights away, For hopes that, like the stars decayed, Have left thy mortal day; The clouds of sorrow will depart, And brilliant skies be given; For bliss awaits the holy heart, Amid the bowers of heaven. 2O weep not for the friends that pass Into the lonely grave, As breezes sweep the withered grass Along the restless wave; For though thy pleasures may depart, And mournful days be given; Yet bliss awaits the holy heart, When friends rejoin in heaven. 603. C. M. Wilson.Consolations in Bereavement. 1The air of death breathes through our souls, The dead all round us lie; By day and night the death-bell tolls, And says, "Prepare to die!" 2The loving ones we loved the best, Like music all are gone; And the wan moonlight bathes in rest, Their monumental stone. 3But not when the death-prayer is said, The life of life departs: The body in the grave is laid, Its beauty in our hearts. 4This frame, O God, this feeble breath, Thy hand may soon destroy; We think of thee, and feel in death A deep and awful joy. 5Dim is the light of vanished years In glory yet to come; O idle grief! O foolish tears! When Jesus calls us home. 604. S. M. Ch. Psalmody.The Peaceful Death of the Righteous. 1O, for the death of those Who slumber in the Lord! O, be like theirs my last repose, Like theirs my last reward! 2Their ransomed spirits soar, On wings of faith and love, To meet the Saviour they adore, And reign with him above. 3With us their names shall live Through long-succeeding years, Embalmed with all our hearts can give,-- Our praises and our tears. 605. L. M. 6l. Sarah F. Adams."And they found the stone rolled away from the sepulchre." 1The mourners came at break of day Unto the garden-sepulchre; With darkened hearts to weep and pray, For him, the loved one buried there. What radiant light dispels the gloom? An angel sits beside the tomb. 2Then mourn we not beloved dead, E'en while we come to weep and pray; The happy spirit far hath fled. To brighter realms of endless day; Immortal hope dispels the gloom! An angel sits beside the tomb. |
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