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Death of a Believer

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In vain our fancy strive to paint
The moment after death,
The glories that surround the saints,
When yielding up their breath.


One gentle sigh their fetters breaks;
We scarce can say, “They’re gone!”
Before the departed Christian takes
His mansion near the throne.


Sorrow strives, but all its efforts fail
To trace him in his heavenly flight!
No eye can pierce within the veil
Which hides that city of light.


Thus much (and this is all) we know,
They are completely blest;
Are done with worry, sin, and woe,
And with their Saviour rest.


On streets of gold they praise His name,
His face they always view;
Then let us foll’wers be of them,
That we may praise Him too.


Their faith and patience, love and zeal
Should make their mem’ry dear;
And, Lord, do Thou the pray’rs fulfill
They offer for us remaining here.


While they have gain’d, we losers are,
We miss them day by day;
But thou canst ever’y heart repair,
And wipe our tears away.


We pray, as in Elisha’s case,
When great Elijah went,
May double portions of thy grace
To us who are left, be sent.




Adapted by M. Coon, March 2009

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