Now let our mourning hearts revive,
And all our tears be dry;
Why should those eyes be drowned in grief
Which view a Savior nigh? What though the arm of conquering death
Does God’s own house invade?
What though the prophet and the priest
Be numbered with the dead? Though earthly shepherds dwell in dust,
The agèd and the young,
The watchful eye, in darkness closed,
And mute th’instructive tongue. The Eternal Shepherd still survives,
New comfort to impart;
His eye still guides us, and His voice
Still animates our heart. “Lo! I am with you,” saith the Lord,
“My Church shall safe abide;
For I will ne’er forsake My own,
Whose souls in Me confide.” Through every scene of life and death,
This promise is our trust;
And this shall be our children’s song,
When we are cold in dust. |
