Must friends and kindred droop and die,

And helpers be withdrawn?

While sorrow with a weeping eye

Counts up our comforts gone?

Be thou our comfort, mighty God!

Our helper and our friend;

Nor leave us in this dangerous road,

Till all our trials end.

O may our feet pursue the way

Our pious fathers led!

With love and holy zeal obey

The counsels of the dead.

Let us be weaned from all below,

Let hope our grief expel,

While death invites our souls to go

Where our best kindred dwell.