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 XII. 
HYMN XII. ON THE DEATH OF MISS M. L---N.
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HYMN XII. ON THE DEATH OF MISS M. L---N.

Fly, happy spirit, fly
Beyond this gloomy sky!
Thee our prayers no more detain,
Thee our grief recalls no more;
Leave awhile thy friends in pain,
Land on that eternal shore.
'Tis done, the soul is fled,
The earthy part is dead!

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Dead is that which wish'd to die,
That which gall'd the soul within,
Dead the sense of misery,
Dead the seed of death and sin.
No pangs of loss or care
Shall now thy bosom tear,
Anguish and severe disease,
Agony and death are past;
Now the weary is at peace,
Peace, which shall for ever last.
Yes, thou hast found an home
Where want can never come:
Nabal cannot drive thee thence,
From thy bosom friends disjoin:
Sure is that inheritance,
Spite of hell for ever thine.
Exposed to want and woe
By thine own flesh below,
Will thy relatives above
Thee by their unkindness grieve?
Angels cannot scorn thy love,
God cannot His daughter leave.
Thou hast, from earth convey'd,
A place to lay thy head:
Lull'd on thy Redeemer's breast,
Who cannot lament for thee,
Thee in God supremely bless'd,
Bless'd through all eternity.
Yet on thy virgin-bier
We drop a tender tear,

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For ourselves, alas! we mourn,
Still by various sorrows pain'd,
Still by furious passions torn,
Midst the toils of hell detain'd.
When, dearest soul, shall we
Escape and follow thee,
Meekly bow our dying head,
Gladly from our labour cease,
Ready for the Bridegroom made,
Ripe for everlasting bliss?
Bridegroom of souls, reply,
And bring redemption nigh,
Object of our glorious hope,
Come and change our faith to sight,
Come and take Thy mourners up,
Rank us with Thy saints in light.