7, 8 7, 8 8 7. The dying Christian.

7, 8 7, 8 8 7. The dying Christian.

MINE hour appointed is at hand, Lord Jesu Christ, attend me; Beside my bed, my Saviour, stand, To comfort, help, defend me. Into thy hands I will commend My trembling soul at my last end, How safe in thy sweet keeping!

Countless as sands upon the shore, My sins are thronging round me; But though they grieve and wound me sore They never shall confound me. My sins are numberless, I know, But o'er them all thy blood doth flow; Thy wounds and death uphold me.

Lord, thou hast joined my soul to thine In bonds no power can sever; Grafted in thee, the living Vine, I shall be thine for ever. Lord, when I die, I die to thee, Thy precious death hath won for me A life that never endeth.

Since thou hast risen from the grave, The grave cannot detain me; Christ died; Christ "rose again," to save; These words shall still sustain me. For where thou art, there I shall be, That I may ever live with thee; This is my joy in dying.