|
|
| |
|
The pangs of death are near,
Amid the joys of life;
And when, in guilty fear
We end our dying strife,
To whom, most holy Lord,
Shall we for succour flee?
O thou most mighty God!
Our help is laid on thee:
Lord Jesus! by thy bloody stains,
Save, save us from hell�s bitter pains.
The bitter pains of hell
Awaken our alarm;
We merit only ill
From thine avenging arm;
Most holy Lord our God,
To whom but unto thee,
Most merciful and good,
Can we for refuge flee?
Suffer us not to fall away
From Jesus in our dying day.
Our dying day will come,
And call our crimes to mind;
And when in sorrow dumb,
No hope on earth we find,
To thee, O Christ, we ?y,�
To thine outflowing blood;
Look with thy pitying eye,
Spare us, most holy Lord:
Nor let us lose the joys that rise
From thine atoning sacrifice.
|
marker 99
|
LYRICS
|
Meter:
|
6 6 6 6 8 8 extended
|
|
Writer(s):
|
|
|
Trans/Adapted:
|
| |
Dates:
|
|
|
Bible Refs:
|
|
LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
|
Hymn/Song Book
|
Year
|
Song #
|
| 1866 | # 1203 |
MUSIC
|
Name:
|
ORANGE
|
|
Meter:
|
6 6 6 6 8 8
|
|
Writer(s):
|
|
|
Dates:
|
|
LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
|
Hymn/Song Book
|
Song #
|
Key
|
| # 279 | D |
echo ' | ';
|
Hymn Writer
