1 Abide with me, fast falls the eventide;
the darkness deepens: Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
help of the helpless, O abide with me.
2 Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
change and decay in all around I see:
O Lord who changes not, abide with me.
3 I need your presence every passing hour;
what but your grace can foil the tempter's power?
Who, like yourself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
4 I fear no foe, with you at hand to bless;
ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death's sting? Where, grave, your victory?
I triumph still, if you abide with me.
5 Hold now your cross before my closing eyes;
shine through the gloom and point me to the skies:
heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;
in life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
|First Line:||Abide with me, fast falls the eventide|
|Title:||Abide with Me|
|Author:||Henry F. Lyte, 1793-1847|
|Composer:||William H. Monk, 1823-1889|