We Are Going Down The Valley

    Jessie B. Pounds

    We are going down the valley one by one,
    With our faces tow'rd the setting of the sun;
    Down the valley where the mournful cypress grows,
    Where the stream of death in silence onward flows.


    We are going down the valley,
    Going down the valley,
    Going tow'rd the setting of the sun;
    We are going down the valley,
    Going down the valley,
    Going down the valley one by one.

    We are going down the valley one by one,
    When the labors of the weary day are done;
    One by one, the cares of earth forever past,
    We shall stand upon the river brink at last.


    We are going down the valley one by one:
    Human comrade you or I will there have none;
    But a tender hand will guide us lest we fall:
    Christ is going down the valley with us all.


    We are going down the valley one by one:
    Yet before the shadowed vale may come the dawn,
    When with rapture we shall gather in the sky;
    "We shall be changed," but some shall never die!


    We Are Nearing

    Fanny Crosby

    We are drifting towards the waters
    Of a calm and tranquil sea,
    And we soon shall anchor safely
    In that port where we should be.


    We are nearing, we are nearing,
    Nearing the golden strand;
    We are nearing, we are nearing,
    Nearing the soul's bright land.

    We are drifting from the sorrows
    That for us will soon be o'er;
    We are drifting from the trials
    That will vex the heart no more.


    We are drifting from the shadows
    Into pure and perfect day;
    'Tis the Savior guides our vessel,
    And His presence cheers our way.


    Oh, the morning and the meeting,
    When our happy souls shall rest,
    By the fount of life eternal,
    With the ransomed ever blest.


    We Cannot Think Of Them As Dead

    Frederick L. Hosmer

    We cannot think of them as dead
    Who walk with us no more;
    Along the path of life we tread-
    They have but gone before.

    The Father's house is mansioned fair
    Beyond our vision dim;
    All souls are His, and here or there
    Are living unto Him.

    But still their silent ministries
    Within our hearts have place,
    As when on earth they walked with us
    And met us face to face.

    Ours are they by an ownership
    Nor time nor death can free;
    For God hath given love to keep
    Its own eternally.

    Weep Not For A Brother Deceased

    Charles Wesley

    Weep not for a brother deceased;
    Our loss is his infinite gain;
    A soul out of prison released,
    And freed from its bodily chain;
    With songs let us follow his flight,
    And mount with his spirit above,
    Escaped to the mansions of light,
    And lodged in the Eden of love.

    Our brother the haven has gained,
    Outflying the tempest and wind;
    His rest he hath sooner obtained,
    And left his companions behind,
    Still tossed on a sea of distress,
    Hard toiling to make the blest shore,
    Where all is assurance and peace,
    And sorrow and sin are no more.

    There all the ship's company meet,
    Who sailed with the Savior beneath,
    With shouting each other they greet,
    And triumph o'er sorrow and death;
    The voyage of life's at an end;
    The mortal affliction is past;
    The age that in Heaven they spend,
    Forever and ever shall last.

    We'll Never Say Goodbye

    Anzentia I. Chapman

    With friends on earth we meet in gladness,
    While swift the moments fly,
    Yet ever comes the tho't of sadness,
    That we must say, "Goodbye."


    We'll never say goodbye in Heav'n,
    We'll never say goodbye,
    For in that land of joy and song,
    We'll never say goodbye.

    How joyful is the hope that lingers,
    When loved ones cross death's sea,
    That we, when all earth's toils are ended,
    With Thee shall ever be.


    No parting words shall e'er be spoken,
    In yonder home so fair,
    But songs of joy, and peace, and gladness,
    We'll sing forever there.


    We Plough The Fields And Scatter

    Matthias Claudius

    We plough the fields and scatter
    The good seed on the land,
    But it is fed and watered
    By God's almighty hand:
    He sends the snow in winter,
    The warmth to swell the grain,
    The breezes and the sunshine,
    And soft, refreshing rain.


    All good gifts around us
    Are sent from heaven above;
    Then thank the Lord,
    O thank the Lord,
    For all his love.

    He only is the maker
    Of all things near and far;
    He paints the wayside flower,
    He lights the evening star;
    The winds and waves obey him,
    By him the birds are fed;
    Much more to us, his children,
    He gives our daily bread.

    We thank thee then, O Father,
    For all things bright and good,
    The seed time and the harvest,
    Our life, our health, our food.
    Accept the gifts we offer
    For all thy love imparts,
    And what thou most desirest,
    Our humble, thankful hearts.

    We Shall Sleep But Not Forever

    Mary A. Kidder

    We shall sleep, but not forever,
    There will be a glorious dawn!
    We shall meet to part, no, never,
    On the resurrection morn!
    From the deepest cave of ocean,
    From the desert and the plain,
    From the valley and the mountain,
    Countless throngs shall rise again.


    We shall sleep, but not forever,
    There will be a glorious dawn!
    We shall meet, to part, no, never,
    On the resurrection morn!

    When we see a precious blossom,
    That we tended with such care,
    Rudely taken from our bosom,
    How our aching hearts despair!
    Round its little grave we linger,
    Till the setting sun is low,
    Feeling all our hopes have perished,
    With the flow'r we cherished so.


    We shall sleep, but not forever,
    In the lone and silent grave:
    Blessed be the Lord that taketh,
    Blessed be the Lord that gave.
    In the bright eternal city,
    Death can never, never come!
    In His own good time He'll call us,
    From our rest, to home, sweet home.


    We Sing His Love, Who Once Was Slain

    We sing His love, Who once was slain,
    Who soon o'er death revived again,
    That all His saints through Him might have
    Eternal conquests o'er the grave.


    Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we
    Shall rise to immortality.

    The saints who now with Jesus sleep
    His own almighty power shall keep,
    Till dawns the bright illustrious day
    When death itself shall die away.


    How loud shall our glad voices sing,
    When Christ His risen saints shall bring,
    From beds of dust and silent clay,
    To realms of everlasting day!


    When Jesus we in glory meet,
    Our utmost joys shall be complete,
    When landed on that heavenly shore,
    Death and the curse will be no more.


    Hasten, dear Lord, the glorious day,
    And this delightful scene display,
    When all Thy saints from death shall rise
    Raptured in bliss beyond the skies.


    What A Friend We Have In Jesus

    Joseph M. Scriven

    What a friend we have in Jesus,
    all our sins and griefs to bear!
    What a privilege to carry
    everything to God in prayer!
    O what peace we often forfeit,
    O what needless pain we bear,
    all because we do not carry
    everything to God in prayer.

    Have we trials and temptations?
    Is there trouble anywhere?
    We should never be discouraged;
    take it to the Lord in prayer.
    Can we find a friend so faithful
    who will all our sorrows share?
    Jesus knows our every weakness;
    take it to the Lord in prayer.

    Are we weak and heavy laden,
    cumbered with a load of care?
    Precious Savior, still our refuge;
    take it to the Lord in prayer.
    Do thy friends despise, forsake thee?
    Take it to the Lord in prayer!
    In his arms he'll take and shield thee;
    thou wilt find a solace there.

    What A Gathering

    Fanny Crosby

    On that bright and golden morning, when the Son of Man shall come,
    And the radiance of His glory we shall see;
    When from ev'ry clime and nation He shall call His people home,
    What a gath'ring of the ransomed that will be!


    What a gath'ring, what a gath'ring,
    What a gath'ring of the ransomed in the summer land of love!
    What a gath'ring, what a gath'ring,
    Of the ransomed in that happy home above.

    When the blest, who sleep in Jesus, at His bidding shall arise
    From the silence of the grave, and from the sea,
    And with bodies all celestial they shall meet Him in the skies,
    What a gath'ring and rejoicing there will be!


    When our eyes behold the city, with its many mansions bright,
    And its river, calm and restful, flowing free;
    When the friends that death hath parted shall in bliss again unite,
    What a gath'ring and a greeting there will be!


    O the King is surely coming, and the time is drawing nigh,
    When the blessed day of promise we shall see;
    Then the changing "in a moment," "in the twinkling of an eye,"
    And forever in His presence we shall be.


    When I Survey The Wondrous Cross

    Isaac Watts

    When I survey the wondrous cross
    on which the Prince of Glory died;
    my richest gain I count but loss,
    and pour contempt on all my pride.

    Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
    save in the death of Christ, my God;
    all the vain things that charm me most,
    I sacrifice them to his blood.

    See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
    sorrow and love flow mingled down.
    Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
    or thorns compose so rich a crown.

    Were the whole realm of nature mine,
    that were an offering far too small;
    love so amazing, so divine,
    demands my soul, my life, my all.

    When On My Day Of Life

    John G. Whittier

    When on my day of life the night is falling,
    And in the winds, from unsunned spaces blown,
    I hear far voices out of darkness calling
    My feet to paths unknown.

    Thou, Who hast made my home of life so pleasant,
    Leave not its tenant when its walls decay;
    O Love divine, O Helper ever present,
    Be Thou my strength and stay!

    Be near me when all else is from me drifting-
    Earth, sky, home's pictures, days of shade and shine,
    And kindly faces to my own uplifting
    The love which answers mine.

    I have but Thee, my Father; let Thy Spirit
    Be with me then to comfort and uphold;
    No gate of pearl, no branch of palm I merit,
    Nor street of shining gold.

    Suffice it if-my good and ill unreckoned,
    And both forgiven through Thy abounding grace-
    I find myself by hands familiar beckoned
    Unto my fitting place.

    Some humble door among Thy many mansions,
    Some sheltering shade where sin and striving cease,
    And flows forever through heaven's green expansions
    The river of Thy peace.

    There from the music round about me stealing
    I fain would learn the new and holy song,
    And find at last, beneath Thy trees of healing,
    The life for which I long.

    When Rising From The Bed Of Death

    Joseph Addison

    When rising from the bed of death,
    O'erwhelmed with guilt and fear,
    I see my Maker face to face,
    O how shall I appear?

    If yet, while pardon may be found,
    And mercy may be sought,
    My heart with inward horror shrinks,
    And trembles at the thought;

    When Thou, O Lord, shalt stand disclosed
    In majesty severe,
    And sit in judgement on my soul,
    O how shall I appear?

    But Thou hast told the troubled mind
    Who does her sins lament,
    The timely tribute of her tears
    Shall endless woe prevent.

    Then see the sorrow of my heart,
    Ere yet it be too late;
    And hear my Savior's dying groans,
    To give those sorrows weight.

    For never shall my soul despair
    Her pardon to procure,
    Who knows Thine only Son has died
    To make her pardon sure.

    When The Dark Waves Round Us Roll

    William W. How

    When the dark waves round us roll,
    And we look in vain for aid,
    Speak, Lord, to the trembling soul,
    "It is I; be not afraid."

    When we dimly trace Thy form
    In mysterious clouds arrayed,
    Be the echo of the storm,
    "It is I; be not afraid."

    When our brightest hopes depart,
    When our fairest visions fade,
    Whisper to the fainting heart,
    "It is I; be not afraid."

    When we weep beside the bier
    Where some well-loved form is laid,
    O may then the mourner hear,
    "It is I; be not afraid."

    When with wearing hopeless pain
    Sinks the spirit, sore dismayed,
    Breathe Thou then the comfort-strain,
    "It is I; be not afraid."

    When we feel the end is near,
    Passing into death's dark shade,
    May the voice be strong and clear,
    "It is I; be not afraid."

    When The Day Of Toil Is Done

    John Ellerton

    When the day of toil is done,
    When the race of life is run,
    Father, grant Thy wearied one
    Rest forevermore.

    When the strife of sin is stilled,
    When the foe within is killed,
    Be Thy gracious Word fulfilled:
    Peace forevermore.

    When the darkness melts away
    At the breaking of the day,
    Bid us hail the cheering ray:
    Light forevermore.

    When the heart by sorrow tried,
    Feels at length its throbs subside,
    Bring us, where all tears are dried,
    Joy forevermore.

    When for vanished days we yearn,
    Days that never can return,
    Teach us in Thy love to learn
    Love forevermore.

    When the breath of life is flown,
    When the grave must claim its own,
    Lord of life, be ours Thy crown,
    Life forevermore.

    Where The Gates Swing Outward Never

    Charles H. Gabriel

    Just a few more days to be filled with praise,
    And to tell the old, old story;
    Then, when twilight falls, and my Savior calls,
    I shall go to Him in glory.


    I'll exchange my cross for a starry crown,
    Where the gates swing outward never;
    At His feet I'll lay every burden down,
    And with Jesus reign forever.

    Just a few more years with their toil and tears,
    And the journey will be ended;
    Then I'll be with Him, where the tide of time
    With eternity is blended.


    Though the hills be steep and the valleys deep,
    With no flowers my way adorning;
    Though the night be lone and my rest a stone,
    Joy awaits me in the morning.


    What a joy 'twill be when I wake to see
    Him for Whom my heart is burning!
    Nevermore to sigh, nevermore to die,
    For that day my heart is yearning.


    While On The Verge Of Life I Stand

    Philip Doddridge

    While on the verge of life I stand,
    And view the scene on either hand,
    My spirit struggles with my clay,
    And longs to wing its flight away.

    Where Jesus dwells my soul would be,
    And faints my much loved Lord to see:
    Earth, twine no more about my heart,
    For 'tis far better to depart.

    Come, ye angelic envoys, come,
    And lead the willing pilgrim home!
    Ye know the way to Jesus' throne-
    Source of my joys and of your own.

    That blissful interview, how sweet,
    To fall transported at His feet:
    Raised in His arms to view His face,
    Thro' the full beamings of His grace.

    Who Knows How Near My End May Be

    Ă„milie Juliane

    Who knows how near my end may be?
    Time speeds away, and death comes on;
    How swiftly, ah! how suddenly,
    May death be here, and life be gone!
    My God, for Jesus' sake I pray
    Thy peace may bless my dying day.

    The world that smiled when morn was come
    May change for me ere close of eve;
    So long as earth is still my home
    In peril of my death I live;
    My God, for Jesus' sake I pray
    Thy peace may bless my dying day.

    Teach me to ponder oft my end,
    And ere the hour of death appears,
    To cast my soul on Christ her Friend,
    Nor spare repentant cries and tears;
    My God, for Jesus' sake I pray
    Thy peace may bless my dying day.

    And let me now so order all,
    That ever ready I may be,
    To say with joy, whate'er befall,
    Lord, do Thou as Thou wilt with me:
    My God, for Jesus' sake I pray
    Thy peace may bless my dying day.

    O Father, cover all my sins
    With Jesus' merits, Who alone
    The pardon that I covet wins,
    And makes His long sought rest our own;
    My God, for Jesus' sake I pray
    Thy peace may bless my dying day.

    Then death may come or tarry yet,
    I know in Christ I perish not;
    He never will His own forget,
    He gives me robes without a spot:
    My God, for Jesus' sake I pray
    Thy peace may bless my dying day.

    And thus I live in God at peace,
    And die without a thought or fear,
    Content to take what God decrees,
    For through His Son my faith is clear;
    His grace shall be in death my stay,
    And peace shall bless my dying day.

    Why Do We Mourn Departing Friends

    Isaac Watts

    Why do we mourn departing friends,
    Or shake at death's alarms?
    'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
    To call them to His arms.

    Are we not tending upward, too,
    As fast as time can move?
    Nor would we wish the hours more slow
    To keep us from our love.

    Why should we tremble to convey
    Their bodies to the tomb?
    There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
    And left a long perfume.

    The graves of all His saints He blessed,
    And softened every bed;
    Where should the dying members rest,
    But with the dying Head?

    Thence He arose, ascending high,
    And showed our feet the way;
    Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,
    At the great rising day.

    Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
    And bid our kindred rise;
    Awake, ye nations under ground;
    Ye saints, ascend the skies.

    Why Should Our Tears In Sorrow Flow

    William H. Bathurst

    Why should our tears in sorrow flow
    When God recalls His own;
    And bids them leave a world of woe
    For an immortal crown?

    Is not e'en death a gain to those
    Whose life to God was given?
    Gladly to earth their eyes they close
    To open them in Heaven.

    Their toils are past, their work is done,
    And they are fully blest;
    They fought the fight, the victory won,
    And entered into rest.

    Then let our sorrows cease to flow;
    God has recalled His own;
    But let our hearts, in every woe,
    Still say, "Thy will be done."

With Grace