2 The pains, the groans, and dying strife,
Fright our approaching souls away;
Still we shrink back again to life,
Fond of our prison and our clay.
3 O, if my Lord would come and meet,
My soul should stretch her wings in haste,
Fly fearless thro' death's iron gate,
Nor feel the terrors as she pass'd.
4 Jesus can make a dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are,
While on his breast I lean my head,
And breathe my life out sweetly there.
Hymn 2:32.
Frailty and Folly.
1 How short and hasty is our life!
How vast our souls' affairs!
Yet senseless mortals vainly strive
To lavish out their years.
2 Our days run thoughtlessly along,
Without a moment's stay;
Just like a story or a song
We pass our lives away.
3 God from on high invites us home,
But we march heedless on,
And ever hastening to the tomb,
Stoop downwards as we run.
4 How we deserve the deepest hell
That slight the joys above!
What chains of vengeance should we feel
That break such cords of love!
5 Draw us, O God, with sovereign grace,
And lift our thoughts on high,
That we may end this mortal race
And see salvation nigh.
Hymn 2:33.
The blessed society in heaven.