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 rev'rence view
A heavenly parent nigh.
3 "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.
4 "Transient and vain is ev'ry hope
A rising race can give;
In endless honour and delight
My children all shall live."
5 We welcome, Lord! those rising tears,
Through 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 |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1814 |
Topic: | Particular Occasions and Circumstances: On the Death of Relatives and Friends |