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My soul, come meditate the day,
And think how near it stands,
When thou must quit this house of clay,
And fly to unknown lands.
[And you, mine eyes, look down and view
The hollow, gaping tomb;
This gloomy prison waits for you,
Whene'er the summons come.]
O could we die with those that die,
And place us in their stead,
Then would our spirits learn to fly,
And converse with the dead:
Then should we see the saints above
In their own glorious forms,
And wonder why our souls should love
To dwell with mortal worms.
[How we should scorn
these clothes of flesh,
These fetters, and this load!
And long for ev'ning to undress,
That we may rest with God.]
We should almost forsake our clay
Before the summons come,
And pray and wish our souls away
To their eternal home.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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1707
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Bible Refs:
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 2005 | # 416 | | | # 61 |
MUSIC
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Name:
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NORTH SALEM
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Dates:
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1799
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echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
