|Abide with Me! Fast Falls the Eventide||9|
|Henry F. Lyte, 1847||William H. Monk, 1861|
Abide with me! fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide!
Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys growdim, its glories pass away;
I need thy presence ever passing hour;
What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power?
I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness:
Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes,
shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies: