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And shall we meet the Master so,
Bearing our withered leaves?
The Saviour looks for perfect fruit:
We stand before him, humbled, mute,
Waiting the word he breathes-
"Nothing but leaves."

God, our Help.


Psalm xc.

OUR God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.

Before the hills in order stood,
Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting thou art God,
To endless years the same.

Thy word commands our flesh to dust,
"Return, ye sons of men;"

All nations rose from earth at first,
And turn to earth again.

A thousand ages in thy sight
Are like an evening gone;

Short as the watch that ends the night

Before the rising dawn.




Time, like an ever-rolling stream,

Bears all its sons away;

They fly forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.

Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,

Be thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.

Enow that I must die.


MY GOD! I know that I must die,
My mortal life is passing hence;
On earth I neither hope nor try
To find a lasting residence.
Then teach me, by thy heavenly grace,
With joy and peace my death to face.

My God! I know not when I die,
What is the moment, or the hour,
How soon the clay may broken lie,
How quickly pass away the flower;
Then may thy child prepared be
Through time to meet eternity.

My God! I know not how I die,
For death has many ways to come,

In dark, mysterious agony,

Or gently as a sleep to some.
Just as thou wilt! if but I be
For ever blessed, Lord, with thee.

My God! I know not where I die,

Where is my grave, beneath what strand, Yet from its gloom I do rely

To be delivered by thy hand.

Content, I take what spot is mine,
Since all the earth, my Lord, is thine.

My gracious God! when I must die,
Oh bear my happy soul above,
With Christ, my Lord, eternally

To share thy glory and thy love!
Then comes it right and well to me,
When, where, and how my death shall be.

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