No bitter tears for thee be shed, Blossom of being! seen and gone! With flowers alone we strew thy bed, O blest departed one! Whose all of life, a rosy ray, Blushed into dawn, and passed away.
2 Yes! thou art fled, ere guilt had power To stain thy cherub-soul and form, Closed is the soft ephemeral flower That never felt a storm! The sunbeam’s smile, the zephyr’s breath, All that it knew from birth to death.
3 Oh! hadst thou still on earth remained, Vision of beauty! fair as brief! How soon thy brightness had been stained With passion or with grief! Now, not a sullying breath can rise, To dim thy glory in the skies.
1050 L. M. Unvail thy bosom, faithful tomb.
Unvail thy bosom, faithful tomb; Take this new treasure to thy trust, And give these sacred relics room To slumber in the silent dust.
2 Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear, Invade thy bounds; no mortal woes Can reach the peaceful sleeper here, While angels watch the soft repose.
3 So Jesus slept; God’s dying Son 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.
1051 L. M. I am now ready to be offered. 2 Tim. 4:6.
The hour of my departure’s come; I hear the voice that calls me home; At last, O Lord! let troubles cease, And let thy servant die in peace.
2 The race appointed I have run, The combat’s o’er, the prize is won; And now my witness is on high, And now my record’s in the sky.
3 Not in mine innocence I trust; I bow before thee in the dust; And through my Saviour’s blood alone I look for mercy at thy throne.
4 I come, I come at thy command; I give my spirit to thy hand; Stretch forth thine everlasting arms, And shield me in the last alarms.
1052 C. M. As a tale that is told. Psalm 90:9.
How short and hasty is our life: How vast our soul’s affairs! Yet foolish mortals vainly strive To lavish out their years.
2 Our days run thoughtlessly along, Without a moment’s stay; We, like a story, or a song, Do pass our lives away.
3 God from on high invites us home; But we march heedless on, And, ever hastening to the tomb, Stoop downward as we run.
4 Draw us, O God, with thy rich grace, And lift our thoughts on high, That we may end this mortal race, And see salvation nigh.
1053 C. M. A desire to depart. Phil. 1:23.
Ye golden lamps of heaven, farewell, With all your feeble light: Farewell, thou ever-changing moon, Pale empress of the night.
2 And thou, refulgent orb of day, In brighter flames arrayed; My soul, that springs beyond thy sphere, No more demands thine aid.
3 Ye stars are but the shining dust Of my divine abode, The pavement of those heavenly courts Where I shall reign with God.
4 The Father of eternal light Shall there his beams display, Nor shall one moment’s darkness mix With that unvaried day.
5 No more the drops of piercing grief Shall swell into mine eyes; Nor the meridian sun decline Amid those brighter skies.
6 There all the millions of his saints Shall in one song unite, And each the bliss of all shall view With infinite delight.
1054 C. M. And Moses went up to the top of Pisgah. Deut. 34:1.
Death can not make our souls afraid, If God be with us there; We may walk through its darkest shade, And never yield to fear.
2 I could renounce my all below, If my Redeemer bid; And run, if I were called to go, And die as Moses did.
3 Might I but climb to Pisgah’s top, And view the promised land, My flesh itself would long to drop, And welcome the command.
4 Clasped in my heavenly Father’s arms, I would forget my breath, And lose my life among the charms Of so divine a death.
1055 C. M. What is your life?
Life is a span—a fleeting hour; How soon the vapor flies! Man is a tender, transient flower, That, even in blooming, dies.
2 The once-loved form, now cold and dead, Each mournful thought employs; And nature weeps her comforts fled, And withered all her joys.
3 Hope looks beyond the bounds of time, When what we now deplore Shall rise in full, immortal prime, And bloom to fade no more.
4 Cease then, fond nature, cease thy tears, Religion points on high; There everlasting spring appears, And joys that can not die.
1056 C. M. Weep not.
Dear as thou wast, and justly dear We would not weep for thee: One thought shall check the starting tear, It is that thou art free.