China (Timothy Swan): Difference between revisions
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==Original text and translations== | ==Original text and translations== | ||
Why do we mourn departing friends, | |||
Or shake at death's alarms? | |||
'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends | |||
To call them to his arms. | |||
Are we not tending upward too | |||
As fast as time can move? | |||
Nor would we wish the hours more slow | |||
To keep us from our love. | |||
Why should we tremble to convey | |||
Their bodies to the tomb? | |||
There the dear flesh of Jesus lay, | |||
And left a long perfume. | |||
The graves of all his saints he blessed, | |||
And softened every bed; | |||
Where should the dying members rest, | |||
But with the dying Head? | |||
Thence he arose, ascending high, | |||
And showed our feet the way; | |||
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly, | |||
At the great rising day. | |||
Then let the last loud trumpet sound, | |||
And bid our kindred rise; | |||
Awake, ye nations under ground; | |||
Ye saints, ascend the skies. | |||
[[Category:Sheet music]] | [[Category:Sheet music]] | ||
Revision as of 01:29, 7 September 2008
Music files
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CPDL #12352:
- Editor: Tim Henderson (added 2006-08-21). Score information: A4, 1 page, 207 kbytes Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes:
General Information
Title: China ("Why do we mourn....")
Composer: Timothy Swan
Lyricist: Isaac Watts
Number of voices: 4vv Voicing: SATB
Genre: Sacred, Hymn
Language: English
Instruments: a cappella
Published: ?1801
Description:
External websites:
Original text and translations
Why do we mourn departing friends, Or shake at death's alarms? 'Tis but the voice that Jesus sends To call them to his arms.
Are we not tending upward too As fast as time can move? Nor would we wish the hours more slow To keep us from our love.
Why should we tremble to convey Their bodies to the tomb? There the dear flesh of Jesus lay, And left a long perfume.
The graves of all his saints he blessed, And softened every bed; Where should the dying members rest, But with the dying Head?
Thence he arose, ascending high, And showed our feet the way; Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly, At the great rising day.
Then let the last loud trumpet sound, And bid our kindred rise; Awake, ye nations under ground; Ye saints, ascend the skies.