Psalms 115:15, "Precious in the sight of the Lord
is the death of His saints."
Take my hand kind Heavenly Father
Clasp it tight to Thy bossom of love;
Fear of the Valley now presses closer,
It dims Heaven's light from above.
Take my hand kind Loving Savior,
As the darkness creeps closer around;
The coldness of death now hovers over,
Thy dear face is all to be found.
Take my hand kind Gentle Shepherd,
As this heart begins to slow;
And as my eyes now close forever,
My spirit upward yearns to go.
Take my hand kind Lord of Mercy,
As my last feeble breath I draw.
Break the ties that hold me downward,
Let Your name be all I recall.
Take my hand kind King of Glory,
I now leave this temple of clay;
As this mystery of death is completed,
May all the glory be Thine I pray.
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