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ON THE DEATH OF MRS. DOROTHY HARDY.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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ON THE DEATH OF MRS. DOROTHY HARDY.

Farewell, thou once a sinner,
Sad daughter of distress!
Thy suffering faith's Beginner
Confers the final peace;
The God of consolation
Is to thy rescue come,
And, crown'd with full salvation,
Receives His exile home.
With songs of pure thanksgiving
We trace thee to the skies,
No longer dead, but living
The life that never dies:
Thy days of sin and mourning
Are finish'd all and past,
Thy joy with Christ returning
Eternally shall last.
Where now are all thy fears
That God would never see
Thy unavailing tears,
Or mark thy misery;

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Would never more forgive thee,
Or for His outcast care,
But quite reject and leave thee,
Expiring in despair?
Where now thy lamentations
Of every comfort fled,
Thy friends and fond relations
Enroll'd among the dead?
Thy friends again have found thee,
Where each to each is known,
And shouting saints surround thee
On a superior throne.
Thy more enduring treasure
Thou hast obtain'd above,
And riches beyond measure
In thy Redeemer's love:
No sacrilegious spoiler
Shall those possessions share,
No treacherous keen reviler
Afflict thy spirit there.
The mourner there rejoices,
The weary are at rest,
And sweet celestial voices
Record the Ever Bless'd:
Jesus, they all adore Thee
In ecstasies of praise,
Or sink in floods of glory
Before Thy dazzling face.