Part 34 (1/2)

5 Good G.o.d! on what a slender thread Hang everlasting things!

Th' eternal states of all the dead Upon life's feeble strings.

6 Infinite joy or endless woe Attends on every breath; And yet how unconcern'd we go Upon the brink of death!

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

Hymn 2:56.

The misery of being without G.o.d in this world; or, Vain prosperity.

1 O, I shall envy them no more Who grow profanely great, Tho' they increase their golden store, And rise to wondrous height.

2 They taste of all the joys that grow Upon this earthly clod, Well they may search the creature thro', For they have ne'er a G.o.d.

3 Shake off the thoughts of dying too, And think your life your own; But death comes hastening on to you To mow your glory down.

4 Yes, you must bow your stately head, Away your spirit flies, And no kind angel near your bed To bear it to the skies.

5 Go now, and boast of all your stores, And tell how bright you s.h.i.+ne; Your heaps of glittering dust are yours, And my Redeemer's mine.

Hymn 2:57.

The pleasures of a good conscience.

1 Lord, how secure and bless'd are they Who feel the joys of pardon'd sin!

Should storms of wrath shake earth and sea, Their minds have heaven and peace within.

2 The day glides sweetly o'er their heads, Made up of innocence and love; And soft and silent as the shades Their nightly minutes gently move.

3 [Quick as their thoughts their joys come on, But fly not half so fast away; Their souls are ever bright as noon, And calm as summer evenings be.

4 How oft they look to th' heavenly hills, Where groves of living pleasure grow!

And longing hopes and cheerful smiles Sit undisturb'd upon their brow.]

5 They scorn to seek our golden toys, But spend the day and share the night In numbering o'er the richer joys That heaven prepares for their delight.

6 While wretched we, like worms and moles, Lie grovelling in the dust below: Almighty grace, renew our souls, And we'll aspire to glory too.

Hymn 2:58 The shortness of life, and the goodness of G.o.d.

1 Time! what an empty vapour 'tis!

And days how swift they are!

Swift as an Indian arrow flies, Or like a shooting star.

2 [The present moments just appear, Then slide away in haste, That we can never say, ”They're here,”

But only say, ”They're past.”]

3 [Our life is ever on the wing, And death is ever nigh; The moment when our lives begin We all begin to die.]