Point me to the skies

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G r o u n d   Z e r o

St. Paul's Chapel

New York, New York

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Abide with me; fast falls the eventide
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide
When other helpers fail and comforts flee
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day
Earth's joys grow dim; its glories pass away
Change and decay in all around I see
O Thou who changest not, abide with me.

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word
But as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, Lord
Familiar, condescending, patient, free
Come not to sojourn, but abide with me.

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, thus abide with me.

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, Lord, abide with me.

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness
Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

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 flee
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

= Henry Francis Lyte =

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But they constrained him, saying, Abide with us:

for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent.

And he went in to tarry with them.

Luke 24:29

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Happy Sunday