s Encouraged._ (458)

Dropping souls! no longer mourn,
Jesus still is precious;
If to him you now return,
Heav'n will be propitious;
Jesus now is passing by,
Calling wand'rers near him;
Drooping souls! you need not die,
Go to him and hear him!

2 He has pardons full and free,
Drooping souls to gladden;
Still he cries--"Come unto me,
Weary, heavy laden!"
Tho' your sins, like mountains high,
Rise, and reach to heaven,
Soon as you on him rely,
All shall be forgiven.

3 Precious is the Savior's name,
All his saints adore him;
He to save the dying came;--
Prostrate bow before him!
Wand'ring sinner! now return;
Contrite souls! believe him!
Jesus calls you; cease to mourn;
Worship him; receive him.

Thomas Hastings. 1831.

226 Are You Ready? 8s & 7s.

_Judgment Day._

Soon the evening shadows falling
Close the day of mortal life;
Soon the hand of death appalling
Draws thee from its weary strife.

Cho.--Are you ready? are you ready?
'Tis the Spirit calling, why delay?
Are you ready? are you ready?
Do not linger longer, come to-day.

2 Soon the awful trumpet sounding
Calls thee to the judgment throne;
Now prepare, for love abounding
Yet has left thee not alone.

3 Oh, how fatal 'tis to linger!
Art thou ready--ready now?
Ready should Death's icy finger
Lay its chill upon thy brow?

4 Priceless love and free salvation
Freely still are offered thee;
Yield no longer to temptation,
But from sin and sorrow flee.

J. W. Slaughenhaupt.

227 Windham. L.M.

_The Broad Road._

Broad is the road that leads to death,
And thousands walk together there;
But wisdom shows a narrow path,
With here and there a traveler.

2 "Deny thyself and take thy cross,"
Is the Redeemer's great command;
Nature must count her gold but dross,
If she would gain this heavenly land.

3 The fearful soul that tires and faints,
And walks the ways of God no more,
Is but esteemed almost a saint.
And makes his own destruction sure.

4 Lord, let not all my hopes be vain;
Create my heart entirely new--
Which hypocrites could ne'er attain,
Which false apostates never knew.

Isaac Watts.

228 Gorton. S.M.

_The Second Death._ (504)

Oh, where shall rest be found--
Rest for the weary soul?
'Twere vain the ocean depths to sound,
Or pierce to either pole.

2 The world can never give
The bliss for