1 Ye mourning Saints, whose streaming Tears
Flow o'er your Children dead,
Say not in Transports of Despair,
That all your Hopes are fled.
2 While cleaving to that darling Dust,
In fond Distress ye lie;
Rise, and with Joy and Reverence view
A heavenly Parent nigh.
3 Tho', your young Branches torn away,
Like wither'd Trunks ye stand,
With fairer Verdure shall ye bloom
Touch'd by th' Almighty's Hand.
4 "I'll give the Mourner," saith the LORD,
"In my own House a Place,
"No Names of Daughters and of Sons
"Could yield so high a Grace.
5 "Transient and vain is every Hope
"A rising Race can give;
"In endless Honour and Delight
"My Children all shall live."
6 We welcome, LORD, those rising Tears,
Thro' which thy Face we see,
And bless those Wounds, which thro' our Hearts
Prepare a Way for thee.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Ye mourning Saints, whose streaming Tears |
Title: | Comofrt for pious Parents, who have been bereaved of their Children |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1791 |
Scripture: | |
Topic: | Funeral Hymns |