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Henry F Lyte - Abide with Me

Fragrant Grace

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But they constrained Him, saying, Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.
And He went in to tarry with them.
Luke 24:29


Henry F Lyte - 1793-1847

Lyte was inspired to write Abide with Me when dying stage of tuberculosis.
On the Sunday he completed it he ministered his farewell sermon in Brixham Parish Devon in the UK.
The following day he started out on a journey to Italy where he hoped to recover his health. However, he died on route in Nice France, just 3 weeks after writing the hymn.

The church bells still ring daily with tune to the hymn Abide with Me


O brethren, I stand here among you today, as alive from the dead, if I may hope to impress it upon you, and induce you to prepare for that solemn hour which must come to all, by a timely acquaintance with the death of Christ.
(Quote from farewll sermon)

Abide with Me (verses 3,4 & 5 are usually omitted from hymn books)

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, O 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.

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word;
But as Thou dwell’st with Thy disciples, Lord,
Familiar, condescending, patient, free.
Come not to sojourn, but abide with me.

Come not in terrors, as the King of kings,
But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings,
Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea—
Come, Friend of sinners, and thus bide with me.

Thou on my head in early youth didst smile;
And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile,
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee,
On to the close, O Lord, abide with me.

I need Thy presence every passing hour.
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
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.
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

 
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