THE TOMB OF JESUS. COME, see the place where Jesus lies! The last sad rite is done! With aching hearts and weeping eyes, The faithful few are gone. They washed with tears each bloody trace, On those dear limbs that lay: Then spread the napkin o'er his face, And turned and went their way. By the sealed stone with grounded spears The guards their vigil keep : They wist not other eyes than theirs Watch o'er the Saviour's sleep. All Heaven above, all Hell beneath Bright hope and blank dismay Look on, to see if grisly Death Can hold his mighty prey. Now, grisly Death, thy powers combine! Yet needs there stronger arm than thine 'Tis done! O Death, thy Victor-guest O Grave, thou place of blessed rest January, 1843. G G SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMN. LET thy Spirit, Lord, descending, Let thy presence go before us Spread thy sheltering pinions o'er us, Oh thou good and gracious Father, Oh thou gentle Shepherd, gather With thine arm each helpless lamb! Feed us in thy verdant meadows, Lead us by thy quiet streams; Till beyond the vale of shadows, Heaven's unclouded glory beams!* This was the author's last production, written under circumstances of great bodily weakness and suffering. In a letter, dated Stainley, May 9th, 1843, he says, with reference to these lines, "Whilst I was in the bath last night, I composed the enclosed hymn, which I think may be suitable for the school sermon." At this time he was staying at Stainley Hall, near Ripon; where he had gone early in the Spring with the hope of recruiting his impaired health; and where he received every attention that the most unwearied kindness and devoted affection could suggest, until the day of his death, the 6th of October, 1843, in the 39th year of his age.--(ED.) LONDON: PRINTED BY G, J. PALMER, SAVOY STREET, STRAND. |