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O, let us exalt our dear Lord and proclaim,
In songs of true gratitude, praise to His name!
As songs of the angels in sweetest accord,
Our thanks and our praises shall rise to the Lord.
-- Zion's Harp # 165

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At The Grave Of The Believer


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Mortal shell, So now thou art
In thy cool grave calmly sleeping;
From earth did thy soul depart
To take comfort in Christ's keeping.
Thou wilt break thy grave's dark walls
And arise when Jesus calls.

Therefore rest thou calmly here;
Rest serenely in the gloaming,
Till the time for us draws near,
When our feet are tired of roaming,
And we in the grave abide,
Where all cares are laid aside.

'Tis His will that we have life
Still in bodies mortal flowing;
All who won the crown through strife,
Once beneath this yoke were groaning.
Death takes us to God at last,
As it did those of the past.

Christ Himself lived here below;
In a pilgrim's hut He tarried.
Greater far than ours, we know,
Were the burdens that He carried.
Firm in conflict let us be
With our eye fixed, God, on Thee.

What is life passed in this frame,
This short space with gloom o'erclouded,
Toward life with immortal fame?
Yet on this short hour enshrouded
Hangs, Thou God of mystery,
Either death or life with Thee.

Thou in whom our all we stake!
Ours will be eternal pleasure,
When earth ties in death we break,
Thou wilt give us then this treasure.
Son of Man and God, our Friend,
Thou on us Thy peace doth send.

Lord, to Thee, not to the world,
We belong -- Thou shalt awake us.
This pow'r of the better world
Let us taste when death does take us.
May we here in faith abide
And in death with Thee reside.

Uploaded on September 27th, 2024 at 7:05am and has 9 views!

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