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The Book of Praise,
Angels, joyful to attend, Hovering round thy pillow, bend, Wait to catch the signal given, And escort thee quick to Heaven.
Is thy earthly house distrest, Willing to retain her guest ? 'Tis not thou, but she, must die; Fly, celestial tenant, fly !
Burst thy shackles, drop thy clay, Sweetly breathe thyself away ; Singing, to thy crown remove, Swift of wing, and fired with love.
Shudder not to pass the stream ; Venture all thy care on Him : Him, whose dying love and power Still'd its tossing, hush'd its roar.
Safe is the expanded wave, Gentle as a summer's eve ; Not one object of His care Ever suffered shipwreck there.
See the haven full in view ; Love Divine shall bear thee through ; Trust {o that propitious gale ; Weigh thy anchor, spread thy saiL
Saints, in glory perfect made,
Wait thy passage through the shade :
Ardent for thy coming o'er,
See, they throng the blissful shore ! |
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