Hymnal: The Pilgrim's Hymn Book
Date: 1816
Compiler: Joseph Thomas
Publisher/Printer: J Foster
First Line: Wake up my muse condole the loss
Topic: <no topic given>
Writer: <no first name given> <no last name given>
Composer:
Meter: CM
Tune:
Hymn Number: XXV
Page Number: 035, click to see hymnal pages
LyicsWake up my muse condole the loss
Of those that mourn this day;
Let tears run down on ev'ry face;
And ev'ry mourner pray.
The tyrant death came rushing in,
Last night his power did show;
Out of this world this child did take,
And laid its visage low.
No more the pleasant child is seen,
To please its parents eye;
The tender plant, so fresh and green,
Is in eternity.
The golden bowl by death is broke,
The pitcher burst in twain;
The cistern wheel has felt the stroke,
The pleasant child is slain.
The winding sheet doth bind his limbs,
The coffin holds it fast;
To day 'tis seen by all its friends,
But this must be the last.
Until the Lord doth come to judge
The nations great and small,
And you and I before him stand,
And at his presence fall.