Far from affliction, toil and care

Verse 1

Far from affliction, toil, and care, The happy soul is fled; The breathless clay shall slumber here, Among the silent dead.

Verse 2

The Gospel was his joy and song, E'en to his latest breath; The truth he had proclaimed so long Was his support in death.

Verse 3

Now he resides where Jesus is, Above this dusky sphere; His soul was ripened for that bliss While ye he sojourned here.

Verse 4

The church's loss we all deplore, And shed the falling tear; Since we shall see his face no more, Till Jesus shall appear.

Verse 5

But we are hasting to the tomb; Oh, may we ready stand; Then, blessed Lord, receive us home, To dwell at thy right hand.