2 Swift to its close ebbs out life's | little day;
Earth's joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all a- | round I see;
O Thou, Who changest not, a- | bide with me!

3 Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word;
But, as Thou dwell'st with Thy dis- ciples, Lord,
Familiar, condescending, | patient, free,
Come, not to sojourn, but a- | bide, with me!

4 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!

5 Thou on my head in early | youth didst smile,
And though rebellious and per- verse meanwhile,
Thou hast not left me, oft as | I left Thee,
On to the close, O Lord, a- | bide with me!

6 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, O a- | bide with me!

7 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
In life, in death, O Lord, a- | bide with me!

Amen.

A. H. D. TROYTE.

[flee;

(SECOND TUNE.)

4 8

A-men.