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?

Still walking downward to our tomb, And yet prepare no more?

4 Grant us the powers of quickening grace To fit our souls to fly, Then, when we drop this dying flesh, We'll rise above the sky.

Hymn 2:64.

G.o.d the glory and defence of Sion.

1 Happy the church, thou sacred place, The seat of thy Creator's grace; Thine holy courts are his abode, Thou earthly palace of our G.o.d.

2 Thy walls are strength, and at thy gates A guard of heavenly warriors waits; Nor shall thy deep foundations move, Fix'd on his counsels and his love.

3 Thy foes in vain designs engage, Against his throne in vain they rage, Like rising waves, with angry roar, That dash and die upon the sh.o.r.e.

4 Then let our souls in Zion dwell, Nor fear the wrath of Rome and h.e.l.l: His arms embrace this happy ground, Like brazen bulwarks built around.

5 G.o.d is our shield, and G.o.d our sun; Swift as the fleeting moments run, On us he sheds new beams of grace, And we reflect his brightest praise.

Hymn 2:65.

The hope of heaven our support under trials on earth.

1 When I can read my t.i.tle clear To mansions in the skies, I bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.

2 Should earth against my soul engage, And h.e.l.lish darts be hurl'd, Then I can smile at Satan's rage, And face a frowning world.

3 Let cares like a wild deluge come, And storms of sorrow fall, May I but safely reach my home, My G.o.d, my heaven, my all.

4 There shall I bathe my weary soul In seas of heavenly rest, And not a wave of trouble roll Across my peaceful breast.

Hymn 2:66.

A prospect of heaven makes death easy.

1 There is a land of pure delight Where saints immortal reign, Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain.

2 There everlasting spring abides, And never withering flowers: Death like a narrow sea divides This heavenly land from ours.

3 [Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood, Stand dress'd in living green So to the Jews old Canaan stood, While Jordan roll'd between.

4 But timorous mortals start and shrink To cross this narrow sea, And linger shivering on the brink, And fear to launch away.]

5 O! could we make our doubts remove, These gloomy doubts that rise, And see the Canaan that we love, With unbeclouded eyes!

6 Could we but climb where Moses stood, And view the landscape o'er, Not Jordan's stream, nor death's cold flood, Should fright us from the sh.o.r.e.

Hymn 2:67.

G.o.d's eternal dominion.