Just o'er the grave I hung

1 Just o'er the grave I hung--
No pardon met my eyes,
As blessings never greet the slain,
And hope shall never rise.

2 Sweet mercy to my soul
Reveal'd no charming ray;
Before me rose a long--dark night,
With no succeeding day.

3 Then--Oh, how vain appear'd
The joys beneath the sky!
Like visions past--like flow'rs that blow
When wint'ry storms are nigh.

4 How mourn'd my sinking soul
The Sabbath's hours divine,
The day of grace, that precious day,
Consum'd in sense and sin.

5 The work--the mighty work
Of life, so long delay'd--
Repentance yet to be begun
Upon a dying bed.

Source: Hymns, Selected and Original: for public and private worship (1st ed.) #675