Object of my first desire,

Jesus, crucified for me!
All to happiness aspire,

Only to be found in Thee :
Thee to praise, and Thee to know,
Constitute our bliss below;

Thee to see, and Thee to love,
Constitute our bliss above.

Lord, it is not life to live,

If Thy presence Thou deny;
Lord, if Thou Thy presence give,
'Tis no longer death to die ;
Source and Giver of repose,
Singly from Thy smile it flows;
Peace and happiness are Thine,
Mine they are, if Thou art mine.
Whilst I feel Thy love to me,

Every object teems with joy ;
Here, oh, may I walk with Thee,
Then into Thy presence die!
Let me but Thyself possess,
Total sum of happiness,

Real bliss I then shall prove ;

Heaven below, and Heaven above.

TOPLADY.

LOVE OF GOD.

OH! never, never canst thou know
What then for thee the Saviour bore,

The pangs of that mysterious woe
That rung His frame at every pore,
The weight that pressed upon His brow,
The fever of His bosom's core.

Yes! man for man perchance may brave
The horrors of the yawning grave;

And friend for friend, or child for sire,
Undaunted and unmoved expire,
From love or piety-or pride:-
But who can die as Jesus died?

A sweet but solitary beam,

An emanation from above,
Glimmers o'er life's uncertain dream,—
We hail that beam, and call it Love.
But fainter than the pale star's ray
Before the noontide blaze of day,
And lighter than the viewless sand
Beneath the wave that sweeps the strand,
Is all of love that man can know,-
All that in angel-breasts can glow,-
Compared, O Lord of hosts! with Thine,
Eternal-fathomless-divine!

That love, whose praise, with quenchless fire,
Inflames the blest seraphic choir?
Where perfect rapture reigns above,
And love is all-for THOU art LOVE.

DALE.

FUNERAL DIRGE.

DEAR as thou wert, and justly dear,
We will not weep for thee;

One thought shall check the starting tear,
It is that thou art free.

And thus shall Faith's consoling power

The tears of love restrain;

Oh! who that saw thy parting hour,

Could wish thee here again ?

Triumphant in thy closing eye,
The hope of glory shone ;
Joy breathed in thy expiring sigh,
To think the fight was won.
Gently the passing spirit fled,

Sustained by Grace Divine ;

Oh! may such grace on me be shed,

And make my end like thine!

DALE

CHILDREN OF LIGHT.

WALK in the light! so shalt thou know

That fellowship of love

His spirit only can bestow

Who reigns in light above.

Walk in the light! and sin, abhorred,

Shall ne'er defile again;

The blood of Jesus Christ the Lord
Shall cleanse from every stain.

Walk in the light! and thou shalt find
Thy heart made truly His,

Who dwells in cloudless light enshrined,
In whom no darkness is.

Walk in the light! and thou shalt own

Thy darkness passed away,

Because that light hath on thee shone
In which is perfect day.

Walk in the light! and e'en the tomb
No fearful shade shall wear ;

Glory shall chase away its gloom,

For Christ hath conquered there!
Walk in the light! and thou shalt see
A path, though thorny, bright;
For God, by grace, shall dwell in thee,
And God himself is light!

BARTON.

THE CHRISTIAN'S TRIUMPH.

LAY down the shield, and quit the sword,
For now thy work is done;

And swiftly toward the glowing east
Ascends the rising sun.

Angelic guards wait with the day

Thy crown of light to bring,"O Grave! where is thy victory? O Death! where is thy sting?"

Bravely hast thou upheld thy shield,
The path of conquest trod,

And followed in yon dreadful field
The banner of thy God.

The hour of rest approaches nigh,
And waiting heralds sing,
"O Grave! where is thy victory?
O Death! where is thy sting?"

They come they come! and high in air
Is borne the Victor's wreath ;

Who overthrew, in glorious war,

The World, the Grave, and Death. There, there they wait to welcome thee, And high their triumphs ring : "O Grave! where is thy victory? O Death! where is thy sting?"

Thus swiftly passed the heavenly band, And soon the city gained;

The soldier from his Sovereign's hand
A soldier's crown obtained :

But still, as heavenly gales went by,
I heard each joyful string,
"O Grave! where is thy victory?
O Death! where is thy sting?"

And thus, when all our toils are o'er,
Shall we the conquest share,
And celebrate with those above,

The closing of the war.
Again shall yonder hosts of light
Abroad their banners fling,
And ours shall be the victory!

"O Death! where is thy sting?

"

And we shall, on the mount of God,
Girt with the Victor's sword,
Receive the honours which, with blood,
Were purchased by our Lord.
And ever through the echoing sky

This song of joy shall ring,

"O Grave! where is thy victory? O Death! where is thy sting?"

J. G. B. PEGG.

FUNERAL ANTHEM.

BROTHER, thou art gone before us,
And thy saintly soul is flown
Where tears are wiped from every eye,
And sorrow is unknown;
From the burden of the flesh,

And from care and fear released,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.

The toilsome way thou'st travelled o’er,
And borne the heavy load;

But Christ hath taught thy languid feet
To reach his blest abode ;

Thou'rt sleeping now like Lazarus,

Upon his father's breast,

Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.