lookingland: (coach)
([personal profile] lookingland Jun. 22nd, 2007 08:27 pm)
i'm writing ~ sorry to be a non-responder for the weekend, but i've got a lot of catching up to do!

anyway, this is a long shot, but does anybody know this hymn? i would love to find a midi of it to see what it sounds like.
Farewell, farewell to all below
My Jesus (Savior) calls and I must go
I launch my boat upon the sea
This land is not the land for me

Ive found the winding path of sin
A rugged path to travel in
Beyond the chilly waves I see
The land my savior bought for me

Farewell my friends i may not stay
the home I seek is far away
Where Christ is not I cannot be
This land is not the land for me

My hope my heart is now on high
There all my joys and treasures lie
Where seraphs bow and bend the knee
0, that's the land, the land for me.

Words: B. Hicks, 1832

The time is swiftly rolling on
When I must faint and die;
My body to the dust return,
And there forgotten lie.
My little children, near my heart,
And nature seems to bind;
It grieves me sorely to depart
And leave you all behind.

Let persecution rage around,
And antichrist appear,
My silent dust beneath the ground,
There’s no disturbance there.
Though I can never come to thee;
Let not this grieve your heart;
For you will shortly come to me,
Where we shall never part.

~ * ~

Tune: J. P. Reese, 1859
Words: John Blain, 1818

And now, my friends, both old and young,
I hope in Christ you will go on;
And if on earth we meet no more,
Oh, may we meet on Canaan’s shore.
I hope you’ll all remember me,
If you on earth no more I see.
An int’rest in your prayers I crave,
That we may meet beyond the grave.

~ * ~

The Christian's Farewell

Farewell, careless sinners, for you I must mourn,
To think of your danger, if still unconcerned;
I read of the judgment, where all must appear,
How will you stand trembling with tormenting fear!

~ * ~

Primitive Hymns, 1858

Brethren, farewell, I do you tell,
I’m sorry to leave, I love you so well.
Now I must go, where I don’t know,
Wherever Christ leads me the trumpet to blow.

Here I have worked, labored awhile,
But labor is sweet if Jesus doth smile.
When I am done, I will go home
Where Jesus is smiling and bids me to come.
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