# | Text | Tune | | | | | | |
901 | The billows swell; the winds are high | | | | | | | |
902 | We come, O Lord, before thy throne | | | | | | | |
903 | Prayer may be sweet in cottage homes | | | | | | | |
904 | Our little bark, on boisterous seas | | | | | | | |
905 | When marshaled on the nightly plain | | | | | | | |
906 | When thro' the torn sail the wild tempest is streaming | | | | | | | |
907 | Star of peace, to wanderers weary | | | | | | | |
908 | The tempest beat against my bark | | | | | | | |
909 | Lord, whom winds and seas obey | | | | | | | |
910 | Hark! the sounds of joy and gladness | | | | | | | |
911 | "Peace" was the song the angels sang | | | | | | | |
912 | The star was bright o'er Bethlehem's plain | | | | | | | |
913 | Our earth we now lament to see | | | | | | | |
914 | O Christian, see that dread array | | | | | | | |
915 | O Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear | | | | | | | |
916 | O God, to thee my sinking soul | | | | | | | |
917 | Lord, thou hast scourged our guilty land | | | | | | | |
918 | Thou rock of my salvation, haste | | | | | | | |
919 | Why should a living man complain | | | | | | | |
920 | Lord, unafflicted, undismayed | | | | | | | |
921 | Almighty Lord, before thy throne | | | | | | | |
922 | As strangers here below | | | | | | | |
923 | Lone, amidst the dead and dying | | | | | | | |
924 | When the spark of life is waning | | | | | | | |
925 | Poor and afflicted, Lord, are thine | | | | | | | |
926 | If life in sorrow must be spent | | | | | | | |
927 | Come on, my partners in distress | | | | | | | |
928 | Afflicted saint! to Christ draw near | | | | | | | |
929 | O how soft that bed must be | | | | | | | |
930 | Affliction is a stormy deep | | | | | | | |
931 | Hearken, Lord, to my complaints | | | | | | | |
932 | When sickness shakes the languid frame | | | | | | | |
933 | Onward, Christian, though the region | | | | | | | |
934 | When languor and disease invade | | | | | | | |
935 | Gently, Lord, O gently lead us | | | | | | | |
936 | Thou boundless Source of every good | | | | | | | |
937 | Saints, at your heavenly Father's word | | | | | | | |
938 | Walk in the light! so shalt thou know | | | | | | | |
939 | I am weary, I am weary | | | | | | | |
940 | When musing sorrow weeps the past | | | | | | | |
941 | If, through unruffled seas | | | | | | | |
942 | Angel of God! whate'er betide | | | | | | | |
943 | Lord, look on all assembled here | | | | | | | |
944 | When Abrah'm, full of sacred awe | | | | | | | |
945 | How sweet the hour of closing day | | | | | | | |
946 | How blest the righteous when he dies! | | | | | | | |
947 | Friend after friend departs | | | | | | | |
948 | Thy life I read, my gracious Lord | | | | | | | |
949 | And let this feeble body fail | | | | | | | |
950 | Why should we start, and fear to die? | | | | | | | |
951 | Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound | | | | | | | |
952 | Pass a few swiftly fleeting years | | | | | | | |
953 | And must this body die | | | | | | | |
954 | O for an overcoming faith | | | | | | | |
955 | Behold the western evening light! | | | | | | | |
956 | Shrinking from the cold hand of death | | | | | | | |
957 | Man dieth and wasteth away | | | | | | | |
958 | And am I born to die? | | | | | | | |
959 | Stoop down, my thoughts that us'd to rise | | | | | | | |
960 | The morning flowers display their sweets | | | | | | | |
961 | Sweet is the scene when Christians die | | | | | | | |
962 | To thee, O God, when creatures fail | | | | | | | |
963 | Lovely babe how brief thy stay! | | | | | | | |
964 | Not for the pious dead we weep | | | | | | | |
965 | Thee we adore, Eternal Name | | | | | | | |
966 | How blest is our brother, bereft | | | | | | | |
967 | Rest from thy labor, rest | | | | | | | |
968 | Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb | | | | | | | |
969 | Not in the church-yard shall he sleep | | | | | | | |
970 | So fades the lovely, blooming flower | | | | | | | |
971 | Cease, ye mourners, cease to languish | | | | | | | |
972 | Sister, thou wast mild and lovely | | | | | | | |
973 | Asleep in Jesus! blessed sleep! | | | | | | | |
974 | Ye mourning saints, whose streaming tears | | | | | | | |
975 | Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee | | | | | | | |
976 | 'Tis finished, the conflict is past | | | | | | | |
977 | Brother, thou art gone before us | | | | | | | |
978 | Why do we mourn departing friends | | | | | | | |
979 | Weep not for the saint that ascends | | | | | | | |
980 | Brother! rest from sin and sorrow | | | | | | | |
981 | How solemn the signal I hear! | | | | | | | |
982 | Happy soul, thy days are ending | | | | | | | |
983 | That once-loved form, now cold and dead | | | | | | | |
984 | How still and peaceful is the grave | | | | | | | |
985 | I looked upon the righteous man | | | | | | | |
986 | My buried friends can I forget? | | | | | | | |
987 | What's this that steals, that steals upon my frame? | | | | | | | |
988 | When around us life is shining | | | | | | | |
989 | Why should our tears in sorrow flow | | | | | | | |
990 | When, bending o'er the brink of life | | | | | | | |
991 | Shed not a tear o'er your friend's early bier | | | | | | | |
992 | Give me the wings of faith, to rise | | | | | | | |
993 | How long shall Death, the tyrant, reign | | | | | | | |
994 | Hear what the voice from heaven proclaims | | | | | | | |
995 | When the last trumpet's awful voice | | | | | | | |
996 | Through sorrow's night and danger's path | | | | | | | |
997 | Shall man, O God of life and light | | | | | | | |
998 | When God is nigh, my faith is strong | | | | | | | |
999 | My faith shall triumph o'er the grave | | | | | | | |
1000 | Great God, I own thy sentence just | | | | | | | |