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1 When blooming Youth is snatch'd away
By Death's resistless Hand,
Our Hearts the mournful Tribute pay
Which Pity must demand.
2 While Pity prompts the rising Sigh,
O may this Truth, imprest
With awful Pow'r--I too--must die--
Sing deep in ev'ry Breast.
3 Let this vain world engage no more;
Behold the gaping Tomb!
It bids us seize the present Hour,
To-morrow Death may come.
4 The Voice of this alarming Scene,
May ev'ry Heart obey;
Nor be the heav'nly Warning vain,
Which calls to watch and pray.
5 O let us fly, to Jesus fly,
Whose pow'rful Arm can save;
Then shall our Hopes ascend on high,
And Triumph o'er the Grave.
6 Great God, thy Sov'reign Grace impart,
With cleansing, healing Pow'r;
This only can prepare the Heart
For Death's surprising Hour.
| Text Information | |
|---|---|
| First Line: | When blooming Youth is snatch'd away |
| Title: | On the Death of a young Person |
| Publication Date: | 1791 |
| Topic: | Funeral Hymns |
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