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And now, belovèd Lord, thy soul resigning
into thy Father's arms with conscious will,
calmly, with reverend grace, thy head inclining,
the throbbing brow and labouring breast grow still.
Freely thy life thou yieldest, meekly bending
e'en to the last beneath our sorrows' load,
yet, strong in death, in perfect peace commending
yhy spirit to thy Father and thy God.
Sweet Savior, in mine hour of mortal anguish,
when earth grows dim, and round me falls the night,
O breathe thy peace, as flesh and spirit languish;
at that dread eventide let there be light.
To thy dear cross turn thou mine eyes in dying;
lay but my fainting head upon thy breast;
those outstretched arms receive my latest sighing-
and then, O then, thine everlasting rest.