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My days are gliding swiftly by,
And I, a pilgrim stranger,
Would not detain them as they fly,
These hours of toil and danger.
We’ll gird our loins, my brethren dear,
Our distant home discerning;
Our absent Lord has left us word,
let every lamp be burning.
Should coming days be cold and dark,
We need not cease our singing;
That perfect rest nought can molest,
Where golden harps are ringing.
Let sorrow’s rudest tempest blow,
Each cord on earth to sever;
Our Lord says, “Come,” and there’s our home
For ever and for ever!
---Alternative verses---
Let sorrow’s rudest tempest blow,
Each chord on earth to sever,
Our King says come, and there’s our home
For ever, oh, for ever!
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 7 8 7
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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1835
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Bible Refs:
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Ps 102:11;
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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 | # 449 | | 1981 | # 151 |
MUSIC
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Name:
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MEIKLE HOLM
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Meter:
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8 7 8 7
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Writer(s):
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Dates:
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LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Song #
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Key
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| # 151 | G |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
