4 By thy hands the boon was given, Thou hast taken but thine own: Lord of earth, and God of heaven, Evermore,--thy will be done! Thomas Hastings. 489 Rest. L.M. _Sleeping in Jesus._ (1077) Asleep in Jesus! blessed sleep, From which none ever wakes to weep; A calm and undisturbed repose, Unbroken by the dread of foes. 2 Asleep in Jesus! peaceful rest, Whose waking is supremely blest; No fear, no woes, shall dim the hour, Which manifests the Savior's power. 3 Asleep in Jesus! oh, for me May such a blissful refuge be; Securely shall my ashes lie, And wait the summons from on high. 4 Asleep in Jesus! far from thee Thy kindred and their graves may be; But thine is still a blessed sleep, From whence none ever wake to weep. Mrs. Margaret Mackay, 1832. 490 Rest. L.M. _The End of that Man is Peace._ (1078) How blest the righteous when he dies! When sinks a weary soul to rest! How mildly beam the closing eyes! How gently heaves the expiring breast! 2 So fades a summer cloud away; So sinks the gale when storms are o'er; So gently shuts the eye of day; So dies a wave along the shore. 3 A holy quiet reigns around, A calm which life nor death destroys; And naught disturbs that peace profound Which his unfettered soul enjoys. 4 Life's labor done, as sinks the clay, Light from its load the spirit flies, While heaven and earth combine to say, How blest the righteous when he dies! Mrs. A.L. Barbauld, 1773. 491 Rest. L.M. _Death and Burial of a Christian._ (1080) Unveil 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, Invades 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 blest 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. Isaac Watts, 1734. 492 Rest. L.M. _The Fading Flower._ (1084) So fades the lovely, blooming flower-- Frail smiling solace of an hour! So soon our transient comforts fly, And pleasure only blooms to die. 2 Is there no kind, no lenient art, To heal the anguish of the heart? Spirit of grace! be ever nigh, Thy comforts are not made to die. 3 Bid gentle patience smile on pain, Till dying hope shall live again; Hope wipes the tear from sorrow's eye And faith points upward to the sky. Anne Steele, 1760 493 China. C.M. _We Are Confident._ (1067) Why do we mourn departing friends, Or shake at death's alarms? 'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends, To call them to his arms.