A Collection of Hymns and A Liturgy ‎#487

487. While to the grave our friends are borne

1 While to the grave our friends are borne,
Around their cold remains
How all the tender passions mourn,
And each fond heart complains!

2 But down to earth, alas! in vain
We bend our weeping eyes,
Ah! let us leave these seats of pain,
And upwards learn to rise.

3 Hope cheerful smiles amid the gloom,
And beams a healing ray;
And guides us from the darksome tomb,
To realms of endless day.

4 To those bright courts when hope ascends,
She calms the swelling woe;
In hope we meet our happy friends,
And tears forget to flow.

5 Then let our hearts repine no more,
That earthly comfort dies;
But lasting happiness explore,
And ask it from the skies.

Text Information

• First Line: While to the grave our friends are borne
• Meter: C. M.
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1814
• Topic: Death

Tune Information

(No tune information)