1155    C.M.     John Newton
Death of a Believer

1 In vain the fancy strives to paint
  The moment after death,
  The glories that surround the saints,
  When yielding up their breath.

2 One gentle sigh their fetters breaks;
  We scarce can say, “They’re gone!”
  Before the willing spirit takes
  Her mansion near the throne.

3 Faith strives, but all its efforts fail,
  To trace her in her flight:
  No eye can pierce within the vail
  Which hides that world of light.

4 Thus much (and this is all) we know,
  They are completely blest;
  Have done with sin, and care, and woe,
  And with their Saviour rest.

5 On harps of gold they praise his name,
  His face they always view;
  Then let us followers be of them,
  That we may praise him too.

6 Their faith and patience, love and zeal,
  Should make their memory dear;
  And, Lord, do thou the prayers fulfil
  They offered for us here!

7 While they have gained, we losers are,
  We miss them day by day;
  But thou canst every breach repair,
  And wipe our tears away.

8 We pray, as in Elisha’s case,
  When great Elijah went,
  May double portions of thy grace,
  To us who stay, be sent.