HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP
Thetask is done, the sun is set,The evening shadows fall apace,The course is run, and tarries yetThe glory only of the race;But ere the guerdon of the toilThe fleeting soul shall rise to reap,God maketh it to rest awhile—He giveth his beloved sleep.What though the eyes are closed in death,The tired hands are folded now?Life shall arise, saith living faith.And ministry diviner grow.’Tis but the hush before the day:The Father bids his angels keepThe treasure that we lay away—He giveth his beloved sleep.But not, oh not forever thusDoth death enshroud our silent ones—We know not what transfigures us,What miracle of quickening suns—But we await their healing wings,Their living flash, seraphic sweep,The glory of the King of KingsWho giveth his beloved sleep.
Thetask is done, the sun is set,The evening shadows fall apace,The course is run, and tarries yetThe glory only of the race;But ere the guerdon of the toilThe fleeting soul shall rise to reap,God maketh it to rest awhile—He giveth his beloved sleep.What though the eyes are closed in death,The tired hands are folded now?Life shall arise, saith living faith.And ministry diviner grow.’Tis but the hush before the day:The Father bids his angels keepThe treasure that we lay away—He giveth his beloved sleep.But not, oh not forever thusDoth death enshroud our silent ones—We know not what transfigures us,What miracle of quickening suns—But we await their healing wings,Their living flash, seraphic sweep,The glory of the King of KingsWho giveth his beloved sleep.
Thetask is done, the sun is set,The evening shadows fall apace,The course is run, and tarries yetThe glory only of the race;But ere the guerdon of the toilThe fleeting soul shall rise to reap,God maketh it to rest awhile—He giveth his beloved sleep.
Thetask is done, the sun is set,
The evening shadows fall apace,
The course is run, and tarries yet
The glory only of the race;
But ere the guerdon of the toil
The fleeting soul shall rise to reap,
God maketh it to rest awhile—
He giveth his beloved sleep.
What though the eyes are closed in death,The tired hands are folded now?Life shall arise, saith living faith.And ministry diviner grow.’Tis but the hush before the day:The Father bids his angels keepThe treasure that we lay away—He giveth his beloved sleep.
What though the eyes are closed in death,
The tired hands are folded now?
Life shall arise, saith living faith.
And ministry diviner grow.
’Tis but the hush before the day:
The Father bids his angels keep
The treasure that we lay away—
He giveth his beloved sleep.
But not, oh not forever thusDoth death enshroud our silent ones—We know not what transfigures us,What miracle of quickening suns—But we await their healing wings,Their living flash, seraphic sweep,The glory of the King of KingsWho giveth his beloved sleep.
But not, oh not forever thus
Doth death enshroud our silent ones—
We know not what transfigures us,
What miracle of quickening suns—
But we await their healing wings,
Their living flash, seraphic sweep,
The glory of the King of Kings
Who giveth his beloved sleep.