Instance Results

Wake up my muse condole the loss

Hymnal: A Collection of Spiritual Songs and Hymns #XLI (1801) Lyrics: 1 Wake up my muse condole the loss Of those that mourn this day, Let tears distill on every face, And every mourner pray. 2 The tyrant death came rushing in, Last night his power did shew, Out of this world this child did take, Death laid its visage low. 3 No more the pleasant child is seen To please its parent's eye, The tender plant, so fresh and green, Is in eternity. 4 The golden bowl by death is broke, The pitcher's burst in twain, The cistern-wheel has felt the stroke, The pleasant child is slain. 5 The winding sheet doth bind its limbs, The coffin holds it fast, To day it's seen by all its friends, But this must be the last. 6 Until the Lord doth come to judge, The nations great and small, And you and I before him stand, And at his presence fall. Languages: English

Wake up my muse, condole the loss

Hymnal: A Collection of Hymns and Spiritual Songs #XLI (1801) Lyrics: 1 Wake up my muse, condole the loss Of those that mourn this day— Let tears distil on every face, And every mourner pray. 2 The tyrant, Death, came rushing in, Last night his power did shew, Out of this world this child did take, Death laid its visage low. 3 No more the pleasant child is seen To please its parent's eye, The tender plant, so fresh and green, Is in eternity. 4 The golden bowl by Death is broke, The pitcher's burst in twain, The cistern-wheel has felt the stroke, The pleasant child is slain. 5 The winding-sheet doth bind its limbs, The coffin holds it fast, To-day it's seen by all its friends, But this must be the last. 6 Until the Lord doth come, to judge, The nations great and small, And you and I before him stand, And at his presence fall. Languages: English