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HYMN 52

C. M.

Death dreadful or delightful.

Death! 'Tis a melancholy day

To those that have no God,

When the poor soul is forced away

To seek her last abode.

In vain to heav'n she lifts her eyes,

But guilt, a heavy chain,

Still drags her downward from the skies

To darkness, fire, and pain.

Awake and mourn, ye heirs of hell,

Let stubborn sinners fear,

You must be driv'n from earth, and dwell

A long forever there.

See how the pit gapes wide for you,

And flashes in your face:

And thou, my soul, look downwards too,

And sing recov'ring grace.

He is a God of sovereign love

That promised heav'n to me,

And taught my thoughts to soar above,

Where happy spirits be.

Prepare me, Lord, for thy right hand,

Then come the joyful day,

Come, death, and some celestial band,

To bear my soul away.

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