1 Through sorrow's night and danger's path,
Amid the deepening gloom,
We, followers of our suff'ring Lord,
Are marching to the tomb.
2 There, when the turmoil is no more,
And all our powers decay,
Our cold remains, in solitude,
Shall sleep the years away.
3 Our labors done, securely laid
In this our last retreat,
Unheeded, o'er our silent dust,
The storms of earth may beat.
4 Yet not thus buried, or extinct,
The vital spark shall lie;
For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise
To seek its kindred sky.
5 These ashes, too, this little dust,
Our Father's care shall keep,
Till the last angel rise and break
The long and dreary sleep.
Source: The Voice of Praise: a collection of hymns for the use of the Methodist Church #920
|First Line:||Through sorrow's night, and danger's path, Amid the deepening gloom|
|Title:||Through Sorrow's Night And Danger's Path|
|Author:||Henry Kirke White|