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SermonIndex.net : Christian Books : DYING PETITIONS.

Hymns From The Land Of Luther by Jane Borthwick

DYING PETITIONS.

DYING PETITIONS.

10,6,10,6,9,9,4

|Gedenke mein, mein Gott.|

Unbekanntes.

transl., Jane Borthwick or Sarah Findlater

|Remember me, my God! remember me!

In hour of deepest woe;

Thou art my only hope, my only plea,

Against th' accusing foe.

Oh! show me now Thy full salvation,

Oh! hear my dying supplication!

Remember me!|

|I think on thee, believer! tremble not,

Thy Saviour still is near:

Here is my cross, my blood to cleanse each spot,

My promises to cheer.

Is not my love unchanged, unshaken?

How shall mine own be e'er forsaken?

I think on thee!|

|Remember me! man's help can naught avail

In the dark valley's shade;

My strength must faint, my flesh and heart must fail,

Oh! haste Thou to mine aid!

Silence and darkness o'er me stealing,

Oh! be Thou still thyself revealing, --

Remember me!|

|I think on thee! soon in the better land

Thou shalt with me rejoice;

The harps of heaven are waiting for thy hand,

The chorus for thy voice:

The angel bands are round thee bending,

Thy parting spirit close attending, --

I think on thee!|

|Remember me! by Thine own hour of pain,

Appear in mine to save

Smooth for my rest the couch where Thou hast lain,

The pillow of the grave;

And while the years of time are flying,

In that lone place of darkness lying, --

Remember me!|

|I think on thee! thine own Redeemer lives,

Thy hope shall not be vain:

When the last trump its solemn summons gives,

Thou shalt arise again.

Now, go in peace, securely sleeping,

Thy dust is safe in angels' keeping, --

I think on thee!|

|Remember me, and the afflicted band

Whom I must leave behind!

Pour consolation from Thine own rich hand

On mourning heart and mind.

Oh! hear this one, this last petition,

Then shall I go in glad submission, --

Remember me.|

|I think on thee! with that sad band of love

I will in mercy deal;

My tender sympathy their souls shall prove

My Spirit's power to heal.

The long-sought bliss shall yet be given,

The lost of earth are found in heaven, --

I think on thee!|

|Now, sweetly sleep! angels thy soul receive,

And bear to Jesus' breast!

Long in our hearts thy memory shall live,

Here let thy body rest.

Secure from earthly pain and sorrow,

Till dawns the resurrection morrow.

Now, sweetly sleep!|

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