“Abide With Me,” by Henry Francis Lyte
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide;
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me.
Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see—
O Thou who changest not, abide with me.
I need Thy presence every passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's pow'r?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness;
Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.
Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies;
Heav'n's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
Devotion
I once portrayed Henry Francis Lyte telling the story behind "Abide With Me." Lyte was the
vicar at the seacoast fishing village of Lower Birxham, Devonshire, England, for 23 years. With his health failing rapidly, because of tuberculosis, he preached his last sermon there on September 4, 1847. That afternoon along the seacoast he wrote "Abide With Me," in less than an hour. He left the next day for a trip to Italy to improve his health. The lyrics indicated he knew death would not be delayed. Upon arriving in Nice, his lungs gave out and he died on November 20, 1847.
His wife was so moved by the words of "Abide With Me" and their meaning, in the context of his life and faith, that the hymn was sung at his memorial service in Brixham.
Prayer
I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless; ills have no weight and tears no bitterness. Where is death's sting? Where grave thy victory? I triumph still, if thou abide with me! (stanza 4)
Amen