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 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
FUNERAL HYMN.
Hark, hark! 'tis a voice from the tomb,
“Come, mourner,” it cries, “come away!
The grave of thy children has room
To rest thee beside their cold clay:
Thy burden of sorrow lay down,
Escape to the harbour so nigh;
Thy course of affliction is run,
And Mercy permits thee to die!”
“Come, mourner,” it cries, “come away!
The grave of thy children has room
To rest thee beside their cold clay:
Thy burden of sorrow lay down,
Escape to the harbour so nigh;
Thy course of affliction is run,
And Mercy permits thee to die!”
The hope of a sudden release,
The token for good I receive,
The blissful assurance of peace,
Which Jesus is ready to give:
It reaches a soul in the deep,
It points to that heavenly shore;
And there I no longer shall weep,
And there I shall suffer no more.
The token for good I receive,
The blissful assurance of peace,
Which Jesus is ready to give:
It reaches a soul in the deep,
It points to that heavenly shore;
And there I no longer shall weep,
And there I shall suffer no more.
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |