Part 35 (1/2)

8 Our everlasting hopes arise Above the ruinable skies, Where the eternal Builder reigns, And his own courts his power sustains.

Hymn 2:61.

A thought of death and glory.

1 My soul, come meditate the day, And think how near it stands, When thou must quit this house of clay, And fly to unknown lands.

2 [And you, mine eyes, look down and view The hollow gaping tomb, This gloomy prison waits for you Whene'er the summons come.]

3 O could we die with those that die, And place us in their stead, Then would our spirits learn to fly, And converse with the dead:

4 Then should we see the saints above In their own glorious forms, And wonder why our souls should love To dwell with mortal worms.

5 [How we should scorn these clothes of flesh, These fetters and this load!

And long for evening to undress, That we may rest with G.o.d.]

6 We should almost forsake our clay Before the summons come, And pray, and wish our souls away To their eternal home.

Hymn 2:62.

G.o.d the thunderer; or, The last judgment and h.e.l.l.*

1 Sing to the Lord, ye heavenly hosts, And thou, O earth, adore, Let death and h.e.l.l thro' all their coasts, Stand trembling at his power.

2 His sounding chariot shakes the sky, He makes the clouds his throne, There all his stores of lightning lie, Till vengeance dart them down.

3 His nostrils breathe out fiery streams, And from his awful tongue A sovereign voice divides the flames, And thunder roars along.

4 Think, O my soul, the dreadful day When this incensed G.o.d Shall rend the sky, and burn the sea, And fling his wrath abroad.

5 What shall the wretch the sinner do?

He once defy'd the Lord; But he shall dread the Thunderer now, And sink beneath his word.

6 Tempests of angry fire shall roll To blast the rebel-worm, And beat upon his naked soul In one eternal storm.

* Made in a great sudden storm of thunder, August 20, 1697.

Hymn 2:63.

A funeral thought.

1 Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound, My ears attend the cry, ”Ye living men, come view the ground ”Where you must shortly lie.

2 ”Princes, this clay must be your bed, ”In spite of all your towers; ”The tall, the wise, the reverend head ”Must lie as low as ours.”

3 Great G.o.d, is this our certain doom?

And are we still secure?