574. C. M. Watts.

Comfort under Bereavements.

1Why do we mourn departed friends,

Or shake at death's alarms?

'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends

To call them to his arms.

2Why should we tremble to convey

Their bodies to the tomb?

There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,

And left a long perfume.

3The graves of all his saints he blest,

And softened every bed:

Where should the dying members rest,

But with their dying Head?

Invitation to the Mercy-seat.

1Come, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish;

Come, at the mercy-seat fervently kneel:

Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;

Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.

2Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,

Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure,

Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,

Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure.