8 7, 8 7, 8 8 7. The dying Christian.

1 MINE hour appointed is at hand,
Lord Jesu Christ, attend me;
Beside my bed, my Saviour, stand,
To comfort, help, defend me.
Into thy hands I will commend
My trembling soul at my last end,
How safe in thy sweet keeping!

2 Countless as sands upon the shore,
My sins are thronging round me;
But though they grieve and wound me sore
They never shall confound me.
My sins are numberless, I know,
But o'er them all thy blood doth flow;
Thy wounds and death uphold me.

3 Lord, thou hast joined my soul to thine
In bonds no power can sever;
Grafted in thee, the living Vine,
I shall be thine for ever.
Lord, when I die, I die to thee,
Thy precious death hath won for me
A life that never endeth.

4 Since thou hast risen from the grave,
The grave cannot detain me;
Christ died; Christ "rose again," to save;
These words shall still sustain me.
For where thou art, there I shall be,
That I may ever live with thee;
This is my joy in dying.