On the Death of Thomas Beard, Hymn 21

Ye happy souls, no longer toss'd,
Like us on life's tempestuous sea,
Who cannot now be shipwreck'd, lost,
Safe landed in eternity,
Are mortals banish'd from your mind,
Or think ye of your friends behind?

Released from all your wants and cares,
What commerce can ye have with men?
Ye need not now our useless prayers;
Nor will we ask your succour vain,
One only Advocate we own,
And trust in Jesu's help alone.

Yet (for He bids us keep in view t
Your active faith, and patient hope)
As ye your Lord, we follow you,
And wait for Him to take us up,
Our closest fellowship to' improve,
Our fellowship with saints above.

Till then we hold your memory dear,
Which now relieves our drooping heart:
Like us ye mourn'd and suffer'd here,
Like us ye languish'd to depart,
And labour'd on with painful strife,
And dragg'd the heavy load of life.

The world cast out your name like ours,
And counted you not fit to live:
Exposed to all the' infernal powers,
Ye dared your Master's lot receive,
Beneath His cross rejoiced to bow,
And drank the cup we drink of now.

Tempted, detained in sore distress,
With all our fiery trials tried,
Lost in this howhng wilderness.
Troubled, perplex'd on every side,
Ye pray'd — in groans at Jesu's stay,
And still complain'd — ye could not pray.

Ye felt the cruel torturing fear
Which now our soul asunder saws,
The doubt ye should not persevere,
But scandalize the Saviour's cause,
Disgrace, and shame the friends of God,
And fall, and perish in your blood.

Men of like passions once ye were
With us, who still ourselves bemoan;
This inbred sin ye groan'd to bear,
And hoped relief from death alone,
As death alone could purge the stain,
And Christ had shed His blood in vain.

But, oh! your evil day is past,
Accomplish'd is your warfare here,
And more than conquerors at last
Our sad desponding hearts ye cheer,
Ye bid us still your steps pursue,
And we shall more than conquer too.

Encompass'd with so great a cloud
Of witnesses, who speak though dead,
We cast aside our every load,
And follow where our Lord hath led,
With patience run the' appointed race,
And die to see His glorious face.