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And shall we meet the Master so,
The Saviour looks for perfect fruit:
OUR God, our help in ages past,
Before the hills in order stood,
Thy word commands our flesh to dust,
All nations rose from earth at first,
A thousand ages in thy sight
Short as the watch that ends the night
Before the rising dawn.
Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
They fly forgotten, as a dream
Our God, our help in ages past,
Be thou our guard while troubles last,
Enow that I must Hie.
FROM THE GERMAN OF B. SCHMOLKE.
MY GOD! I know that I must die,
To find a lasting residence.
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,
In dark, mysterious agony,
Or gently as a sleep to some.
My God! I know not where I die,
To be delivered by thy hand.
Content, I take what spot is mine,
My gracious God! when I must die,
To share thy glory and thy love!