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.
—Lyte.
FAREWELL OF THE SOUL TO THE BODY.
Companion dear! the hour draws nigh,
The sentence speeds—to die, to die.
So long in mystic union held,
So close with strong embrace compell'd,