38. The last Farewell.
(A Hymn on Death.)
Come, my soul, and let us dwell
On each lingering last farewell,
Which at no far distant day
Thou perforce wilt have to pay
To whatever here below
Shall have made thy joy or woe.
Fare ye well—I hear thee sigh—
Fare ye well, O earth and sky!
Morning's golden tissued ray,
Changing hours of night and day,
Wood and valley, sea and shore,
I may see your face no more!
Fare ye well, affections vain.
Full of pleasure, full of pain;
Home and friends and kindred dear,
All that was my comfort here;
My poor eyes are closing fast,
Now I look on you my last.
Dimmer, dimmer grows the light!
Now 'tis thick descending night!
Oh, when next again I see,
What a sight awaiteth me!
Speechless standing, all alone,
Right before the judgment throne.
