1 Thou, who didst stoop below to drain the cup of woe,
Wearing the form of full mortality,
Thy blessèd labors done, the crown of victory won,
Hath passed from earth, passed to Thy home on high.
2 Our eyes beheld Thee not, yet hast Thou not forgot
Those who have placed their hope, their trust in Thee;
Before Thy Father’s face Thou hast prepared a place,
That where Thou art, there they may also be.
3 It was no path of flowers through this dark world of ours,
Belovèd of the Father, Thou didst tread:
And shall we in dismay shrink from the narrow way,
When clouds and darkness are around it spread?
5 O Thou who art our life, be with us through the strife,
Thy holy head by earth’s fierce storms was bowed;
Raise Thou our eyes above, to see a Father’s love,
Beam, like the bow of promise, through the cloud.
E’en through the awful gloom
Which hovers o’er the tomb,
That light of love our guiding star shall be;
Our spirits will not dread
The shadowy way to tread,
Friend, Guardian, Savior, which doth lead to Thee.
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #8483
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