2 Brother, wake; the night is waning; Endless day is round thee poured; Enter thou the rest remaining For the people of the Lord.

3 Brother, 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.

4 Fare 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.

1 Go 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.

2 Go 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.

3 Go 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, Pa.s.s to eternal life beyond the sky.

4 Go 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."

1 Servant of G.o.d, 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.

2 Tranquil 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 enc.u.mbering clay; His tent, at sunrise, on the ground, A darkened ruin lay.

3 The 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.

594. C. M. Dale.

Death of a Christian.

1 Dear 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.

2 And thus shall faith's consoling power The tears of love restrain: O, who that saw thy parting hour Could wish thee here again!

3 Triumphant in thy closing eye The hope of glory shone; Joy breathed in thy expiring sigh, To think the race was run.

4 The pa.s.sing 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.

1 The G.o.d of mercy will indulge The flowing tear, the heaving sigh, When honored parents fall around, When friends beloved and kindred die.

2 Yet not one anxious, murmuring thought Should with our mourning pa.s.sions blend; Nor should our bleeding hearts forget Their mighty, ever-living Friend.

3 Parent, Protector, Guardian, Guide, Thou art each tender name in one; On thee we cast our every care, And comfort seek from thee alone.

4 To 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.

1 Father, gathered round the bier, Aid thy weeping children here; All our stricken hearts deplore Loss of him we meet no more.

2 Tender are the rites we pay, Pastor, o'er thy sleeping clay; We, who late the welcome gave, Must we bear thee to thy grave?

3 Earth, unto thy faithful trust, We commit this precious dust, There, by pain no more oppressed, Brother, thou wilt sweetly rest.

4 Glorious 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.

1 On Zion's holy walls Is quenched a beacon-light, In vain the watchman calls-- "Sentry! what of the night?"