Part 21 (1/2)

8 This is the folly of their way; And yet their sons, as vain, Approve the words their fathers say, And act their works again.

9 Men void of wisdom and of grace, If honour raise them high.

Live like the beast, a thoughtless race, And like the beast they die.

10 Laid in the grave like silly sheep, Death feeds upon them there, Till the last trumpet break their sleep In terror and despair.

Psalm 49:2. 14 15. Second Part. C. M.

Death and the resurrection.

1 Ye sons of pride, that hate the just, And trample on the poor, When death has brought you down to dust, Your pomp shall rise no more,

2 The last great day shall change the scene; When will that hour appear?

When shall the just revive, and reign O'er all that scorn'd them here?

3 G.o.d will my naked soul receive, When sep'rate from the flesh; And break the prison of the grave To raise my bones afresh.

4 Heaven is my everlasting home, Th' inheritance is sure; Let men of pride their rage resume, But I'll repine no more.

Psalm 49:3. L. M.

The rich sinner's death, and the saint's resurrection.

1 Why do the proud insult the poor, And boast the large estates they have?

How vain are riches to secure Their haughty owners from the grave!

2 They can't redeem one hour from death, With all the wealth in which they trust; Nor give a dying brother breath, When G.o.d commands him down to dust.

3 There the dark earth and dismal shade Shall clasp their naked bodies round; That flesh, so delicately fed, Lies cold, and moulders in the ground.

4 Like thoughtless sheep the sinner dies, Laid in the grave for worms to eat; The saints shall in the morning rise, And find th' oppressor at their feet.

5 His honours perish in the dust, And pomp and beauty, birth and blood: That glorious day exalts the just To full dominion o'er the proud.

6 My Saviour shall my life restore, And raise me from my dark abode; My flesh and soul shall part no more, But dwell for ever near my G.o.d.

Psalm 50:1. 1-6. First Part. C. M.

The last judgment; or, The saints rewarded.

1 The Lord, the Judge, before his throne, Bids the whole earth draw nigh, The nations near the rising sun, And near the western sky.

2 No more shall bold blasphemers say, ”Judgment will ne'er begin,”

No more abuse his long delay To impudence and sin.

3 Thron'd on a cloud our G.o.d shall come, Bright flames prepare his way, Thunder and darkness, fire and storm, Lead on the dreadful day.

4 Heaven from above his call shall hear, Attending angels come, And earth and h.e.l.l shall know and fear His justice and their doom.

5 ”But gather all my saints,” he cries, ”That made their peace with G.o.d, ”By the Redeemer's sacrifice, ”And seal'd it with his blood.