Poems by the late John Bethune | ||
THE LAST FAREWELL.
Fare-thee-well, thou parting spirit!
Dear christian, fare-thee-well!
The glory thou shalt soon inherit
No mortal tongue can tell!
Dear christian, fare-thee-well!
The glory thou shalt soon inherit
No mortal tongue can tell!
Yet sadly sounds in friendship's ear,
That last adieu of thine:
Ah! who could part with one so dear—
So loved—and not repine?
That last adieu of thine:
Ah! who could part with one so dear—
So loved—and not repine?
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For those who are most meet for heaven,
On earth we miss the most;
Yet those who long on earth have striven,
Sigh for that peaceful coast.
On earth we miss the most;
Yet those who long on earth have striven,
Sigh for that peaceful coast.
Then go! sweet saint, resign thy breath;
And He, whose staff and rod
Supports thee in the vale of death,
Shall ever be thy God.
And He, whose staff and rod
Supports thee in the vale of death,
Shall ever be thy God.
And while we close thy lifeless eye,
And mourn thy vacant clay,
Thy soul shall wing its flight on high,
Beyond the milky way!
And mourn thy vacant clay,
Thy soul shall wing its flight on high,
Beyond the milky way!
Then haste to mansions of the blest;
And blest are those who die
In Jesus; for their bodies rest—
Their spirits scale the sky:
And blest are those who die
In Jesus; for their bodies rest—
Their spirits scale the sky:
And all their works shall follow them;
And, to their crowns above,
Their King shall add a heavenly gem
For every work of love.
And, to their crowns above,
Their King shall add a heavenly gem
For every work of love.
And though we part, 'tis not for aye—
No; brighter hopes remain:
There comes at last a glorious day
When we shall meet again.
No; brighter hopes remain:
There comes at last a glorious day
When we shall meet again.
Our dust shall mingle in the grave,
Our souls shall meet in heaven;
For, by His love who died to save,
Our sins shall be forgiven.
Our souls shall meet in heaven;
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Our sins shall be forgiven.
Then fare-thee-well, thou parting spirit!
Dear christian, fare-thee-well!
The glory thou shalt soon inherit
No mortal tongue can tell!
Dear christian, fare-thee-well!
The glory thou shalt soon inherit
No mortal tongue can tell!
Poems by the late John Bethune | ||