8 Our everlasting hopes arise
Above the ruinable skies,
Where the eternal Builder reigns,
And his own courts his power sustains.
Hymn 2:61.
A thought of death and glory.
1 My soul, come meditate the day,
And think how near it stands,
When thou must quit this house of clay,
And fly to unknown lands.
2 [And you, mine eyes, look down and view
The hollow gaping tomb,
This gloomy prison waits for you
Whene'er the summons come.]
3 O could we die with those that die,
And place us in their stead,
Then would our spirits learn to fly,
And converse with the dead:
4 Then should we see the saints above
In their own glorious forms,
And wonder why our souls should love
To dwell with mortal worms.
5 [How we should scorn these clothes of flesh,
These fetters and this load!
And long for evening to undress,
That we may rest with God.]
6 We should almost forsake our clay
Before the summons come,
And pray, and wish our souls away
To their eternal home.
Hymn 2:62.
God the thunderer; or,
The last judgment and hell.*
1 Sing to the Lord, ye heavenly hosts,
And thou, O earth, adore,
Let death and hell thro' all their coasts,
Stand trembling at his power.
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