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CCCLVI. The death of A Believer

1 In vain my fancy strives to paint
The moment after death,
The glories that surround a saint,
When yielding up his breath.

2 One gentle sigh his fetters breaks,
We scarce can say, "he's gone!"
Before the willing spirit takes
Its mansions near the throne.

3 Faith strives, but all its efforts fail,
To trace the spirit's flight;
No eye can pierce within the veil
Which hides that world of light.

4 Thus much (and this is all) we know,
Saints are completely blest;
Have done with sin, and care, and woe,
And with their Saviour rest.

5 On harps of gold they praise his name,
His face they always view;
Then let us followers be of them,
That we may praise him too.

Text Information

• First Line: In vain my fancy strives to paint
• Title: The death of A Believer
• Meter: C. M.
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1799
• Topic: Saints: Death of; Funeral

Tune Information

(No tune information)