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"Ye do shew the Lord's death till he come."
A spotless lamb, by God's command,
But none, save Jesus, God's own Son,
The work he finished: now no more
Yet still, in thankful memory,
We break the bread, and take the cup;
And, as in love and joy and peace
His people in communion meet,
They hail by faith that better feast,
O Lord, thy dying love exceeds
What men or angels can declare ;
Teach us, while here thy death we shew,
"He took them up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them."
Mother, with thy precious load,
Know that Jesus did of old
Then, upon the infant's face
As the Saviour's cross we trace,
Blessing, glory, honour, power,
THE CARRYING ANGEL AND THE
"I heard a voice from Heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours, and their works do follow them."
"Hail, Spirit, last from earth,
But not of mortal birth,
Well hast thou run,
Thy labour now is done,
Thy life in Heaven's begun ;
Put on thee now this robe of heavenly white,
Standing in great Jehovah's sight."