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Category: Funeral Service Hymns

Home / Funeral Service Hymns (Page 2)
Funeral Service Hymns
March 7, 2018 By 0 Comments

Praise My Soul

Words: Hen­ry F. Lyte, Spir­it of the Psalms, 1834. This hymn was sung at the wed­ding of the fu­ture Queen Eliz­a­beth II of Bri­tain, in West­min­ster Ab­bey, Lon­don, 1947.

Music: Lauda An­i­ma, John Goss, in Sup­ple­ment­al Hymn and Tune Book, third edi­tion with new Ap­pen­dix, by Ro­bert Brown-Borth­wick, 1869. Al­tern­ate tunes:

  • Benediction (Hay­dn), Franz J. Haydn (1732-1809)
  • Regent Square, Hen­ry T. Smart, 1867 

Praise, my soul, the King of Heaven;
To His feet thy tribute bring.
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Evermore His praises sing:
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Praise the everlasting King.

Praise Him for His grace and favor
To our fathers in distress.
Praise Him still the same as ever,
Slow to chide, and swift to bless.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Glorious in His faithfulness.

Fatherlike He tends and spares us;
Well our feeble frame He knows.
In His hands He gently bears us,
Rescues us from all our foes.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Widely yet His mercy flows.

Frail as summer’s flower we flourish,
Blows the wind and it is gone;
But while mortals rise and perish
Our God lives unchanging on,
Praise Him, Praise Him, Hallelujah
Praise the High Eternal One!

Angels, help us to adore Him;
Ye behold Him face to face;
Sun and moon, bow down before Him,
Dwellers all in time and space.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Praise with us the God of grace.
Funeral Service Hymns
March 7, 2018 By 0 Comments

O Lord My God

Words: John Q. Adams (1767-1848).

Music: Ham­burg, Low­ell Ma­son, 1824; first ap­peared in The Bos­ton Han­del and Hay­dn So­ci­e­ty Coll­ect­ion of Church Mu­sic, third edi­tion, 1825.

O Lord my God! how great art Thou!
With honor and with glory crowned;
Light’s dazzling splendors veil Thy brow,
And gird the universe around.

Spirits and angels Thou hast made;
Thy ministers a flaming fire;
By Thee were earth’s foundations laid;
At Thy rebuke the floods retire.

Thine are the fountains of the deep;
By Thee their waters swell or fail;
Up to the mountain’s summit creep,
Or shrink beneath the lowly vale.

Thy fingers mark their utmost found;
That bound the waters may not pass;
Their moisture swells the teeming ground,
And paints the valleys o’er with grass.

The waving harvest, Lord, is Thine;
The vineyard, and the olive’s juice;
Corn, wine, and oil, by Thee combine,
Life, gladness, beauty, produce.

The moon for seasons Thou hast made,
The sun for change of day and night;
Of darkness Thine the deepest shade,
And Thine the day’s meridian light.

O Lord, Thy works are all divine;
In wisdom hast Thou made them all;
Earth’s teeming multitudes are Thine;
Thine—peopled ocean’s great and small.

All these on Thee for life depend;
Thy Spirit speaks, and they are born;
They gather what Thy bounties send;
Thy hand of plenty fills the horn.

Thy face is hidden—they turn pale,
With terror quake, with anguish burn;
Their breath Thou givest to the gale;
They die, and to their dust return.

And Thou, my soul, with pure delight,
Thy voice to bless thy Maker raise;
His praise let morning sing to night,
And night to morn repeat His praise.
Funeral Service Hymns
March 7, 2018 By 0 Comments

Old Rugged Cross

Words & Music: George Ben­nard, 1913.

The Old Rug­ged Cross was writ­ten in Al­bi­on, Mi­chi­gan. Or Po­ka­gon, Mi­chi­gan. Or Stur­geon Bay, Wis­con­sin. All three towns claim to be the birth­place of this hymn.

On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suffering and shame;
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.

Refrain

So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it some day for a crown.

O that old rugged cross, so despised by the world,
Has a wondrous attraction for me;
For the dear Lamb of God left His glory above
To bear it to dark Calvary.

Refrain

In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see,
For ’twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.

Refrain

To the old rugged cross I will ever be true;
Its shame and reproach gladly bear;
Then He’ll call me some day to my home far away,
Where His glory forever I’ll share.

Refrain
Funeral Service Hymns
March 7, 2018 By 0 Comments

O Jesus, I Have Promised

Words: John E. Bode, 1868, alt. Bode wrote the words for his daugh­ter’s and two sons’ con­firm­a­tion serv­ice. At the time, Bode was a pas­tor in Cas­tle Camps par­ish, Cam­bridge­shire, Eng­land. It was pub­lished in the ap­pend­ix of Psalms and Hymns of the So­ci­e­ty for the Pro­pa­ga­tion of Christ­ian Know­ledge, 1869.

Music: An­gel’s Sto­ry, Ar­thur H. Mann, in The Meth­od­ist Sun­day School Hymn­book (Lon­don: 1881). Al­ter­nate tune:

  • Llanberis, Sam­u­el Wes­ley, in No­vel­lo’s The Psalm­ist, 1835
  • Llanfyllin, tra­di­tion­al Welsh mel­o­dy, pub­lished 1865

O Jesus, I have promised to serve Thee to the end;
Be Thou forever near me, my Master and my Friend;
I shall not fear the battle if Thou art by my side,
Nor wander from the pathway if Thou wilt be my Guide.

O let me feel Thee near me! The world is ever near;
I see the sights that dazzle, the tempting sounds I hear;
My foes are ever near me, around me and within;
But Jesus, draw Thou nearer, and shield my soul from sin.

O let me hear Thee speaking in accents clear and still,
Above the storms of passion, the murmurs of self will.
O speak to reassure me, to hasten or control;
O speak, and make me listen, Thou Guardian of my soul.

O Jesus, Thou hast promised to all who follow Thee
That where Thou art in glory there shall Thy servant be.
And Jesus, I have promised to serve Thee to the end;
O give me grace to follow, my Master and my Friend.

O let me see Thy footprints, and in them plant mine own;
My hope to follow duly is in Thy strength alone.
O guide me, call me, draw me, uphold me to the end;
And then in Heaven receive me, my Savior and my Friend.
Funeral Program, Funeral Service Hymns
March 7, 2018 By 0 Comments

Oh Let Me Walk With Thee

Words: Mrs. L. D. Av­ery-Stut­tle (1855-1933).

Music: Mor­ton, Ed­win Barnes, 1886.

O let me walk with Thee, my God,
As Enoch walked in days of old;
Place Thou my trembling hand in Thine,
And sweet communion with me hold;
E’en though the path I may not see,
Yet, Jesus, let me walk with Thee.

I cannot, dare not, walk alone;
The tempest rages in the sky,
A thousand snares beset my feet,
A thousand foes are lurking nigh.
Still Thou the raging of the sea,
O Master! let me walk with Thee.

If I may rest my hand in Thine,
I’ll count the joys of earth but loss,
And firmly, bravely journey on;
I’ll bear the banner of the cross
Till Zion’s glorious gates I see;
Yet, Savior, let me walk with Thee.
Funeral Program, Funeral Service Hymns
March 7, 2018 By 0 Comments

Nearer My God To Thee

Words: Verses 1-5, Sar­ah F. Adams, in Hymns and Anthems, by William Johnson Fox, 1841; verse 6, Ed­ward H. Bick­er­steth, Jr.

Music: Beth­a­ny (Ma­son), Low­ell Ma­son, 1856 :

One night, some­time af­ter ly­ing awake in the dark, eyes wide open, through the still­ness in the house the mel­o­dy came to me, and the next morn­ing I wrote down the notes.

Al­ter­nate tunes:

  • American, com­pos­er un­known 
  • Communion, Sam­u­el S. Wes­ley, in the Eur­o­pe­an Psal­mist, 1872 
  • Horbury, John B. Dykes, 1861 
  • Liverpool, John Roberts (1822-77) 
  • Propior Deo, Ar­thur S. Sul­li­van, 1872 (us­es a mo­di­fied re­frain) 
  • Rothwell (Shaw), Geof­frey T. Shaw, 1915 

This hymn is sung at the end of the 1936 mo­vie San Fran­cis­co, which was nom­in­at­ed for sev­er­al Acad­e­my Awards. It is al­so played by the ship’s band in Ti­tan­ic, win­ner of the Acad­e­my Award for best pic­ture of 1997.

There are al­so ma­ny in­spir­ing true life stor­ies as­so­ci­at­ed with this hymn. Some Ti­tan­ic sur­viv­ors said it was played by the ship’s or­ches­tra as the ocean lin­er went down (though other sur­viv­ors said it was a dif­fer­ent song).

Another story con­cerns the death of Amer­i­can pre­si­dent Wil­liam Mc­Kin­ley, as­sass­in­at­ed in 1901. Dr. Mann, the at­tend­ing phy­si­cian, re­port­ed that among Mc­Kin­ley’s last words were “‘Near­er, my God, to Thee, e’en though it be a cross,’ has been my con­stant pray­er.” On the af­ter­noon of Sep­tem­ber 13, 1901, af­ter five min­utes of si­lence across the na­tion, bands in Un­ion and Mad­i­son Squares in New York Ci­ty played the hymn in hon­or of the fall­en pre­si­dent. It was al­so played at a me­mor­i­al ser­vice for him in West­min­ster Ab­bey, Lon­don.

The hymn was al­so played as the bo­dy of as­sas­sin­at­ed Amer­i­can Pre­sid­ent James Gar­field was in­terred at Lake­view Cem­e­te­ry in Cleve­land, Ohio.

Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee!
E’en though it be a cross that raiseth me,
Still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee.

Refrain

Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!

Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down,
Darkness be over me, my rest a stone.
Yet in my dreams I’d be nearer, my God to Thee.

Refrain

There let the way appear, steps unto Heav’n;
All that Thou sendest me, in mercy given;
Angels to beckon me nearer, my God, to Thee.

Refrain

Then, with my waking thoughts bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs Bethel I’ll raise;
So by my woes to be nearer, my God, to Thee.

Refrain

Or, if on joyful wing cleaving the sky,
Sun, moon, and stars forgot, upward I’ll fly,
Still all my song shall be, nearer, my God, to Thee.

Refrain

There in my Father’s home, safe and at rest,
There in my Savior’s love, perfectly blest;
Age after age to be, nearer my God to Thee.

Refrain
Funeral Service Hymns
March 7, 2018 By 0 Comments

Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory

Words: Ju­lia W. Howe, 1861, alt. This hymn was born dur­ing the Amer­i­can ci­vil war, when Howe vis­it­ed a Un­ion Ar­my camp on the Po­to­mac Riv­er near Wash­ing­ton, D. C. She heard the sol­diers sing­ing the song “John Brown’s Body,” and was tak­en with the strong march­ing beat. She wrote the words the next day:

I awoke in the grey of the morn­ing, and as I lay wait­ing for dawn, the long lines of the de­sired po­em be­gan to en­twine them­selves in my mind, and I said to my­self, “I must get up and write these vers­es, lest I fall asleep and for­get them!” So I sprang out of bed and in the dim­ness found an old stump of a pen, which I re­mem­bered us­ing the day be­fore. I scrawled the vers­es al­most with­out look­ing at the p­aper.

The hymn ap­peared in the At­lant­ic Month­ly in 1862. It was sung at the fun­er­als of Brit­ish states­man Win­ston Church­ill, Amer­i­can sen­at­or Ro­bert Ken­ne­dy, and Am­er­i­can pre­si­dents Ron­ald Rea­gan and Ri­chard Nix­on.

Music: John Brown’s Bo­dy, poss­i­bly by John Will­iam Steffe. John Brown was an Amer­i­can abo­li­tion­ist who led a short lived in­­sur­­rect­­ion to free the slaves.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword;
His truth is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch fires of a hundred circling camps
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps;
His day is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His day is marching on.

I have read a fiery Gospel writ in burnished rows of steel;
“As ye deal with My contemners, so with you My grace shall deal”;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with His heel,
Since God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Since God is marching on.

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat;
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet;
Our God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us live to make men free;
[originally …let us die to make men free]
While God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! While God is marching on.

He is coming like the glory of the morning on the wave,
He is wisdom to the mighty, He is honor to the brave;
So the world shall be His footstool, and the soul of wrong His slave,
Our God is marching on.
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Our God is marching on.
Funeral Service Hymns
March 7, 2018 By 0 Comments

How Sweet The Name of Jesus Sounds

Words: John Newton, Ol­ney Hymns (Lon­don: W. Ol­iv­er, 1779).

Music: St. Pe­ter (Rein­a­gle), Alex­an­der R. Rein­a­gle, Psalm Tunes for the Voice and Pi­an­o­for­te (Ox­ford, Eng­land: 1836) . Al­ter­nate tunes:

  • Heber, George Kings­ley, 1838 .
  • Ortonville, Thom­as Hast­ings, 1837 .

How sweet the Name of Jesus sounds
In a believer’s ear!
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds,
And drives away his fear.

It makes the wounded spirit whole,
And calms the troubled breast;
’Tis manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary, rest.

Dear Name, the Rock on which I build,
My Shield and Hiding Place,
My never failing treasury, filled
With boundless stores of grace!

By Thee my prayers acceptance gain,
Although with sin defiled;
Satan accuses me in vain,
And I am owned a child.

Jesus! my Shepherd, Husband, Friend,
O Prophet, Priest and King,
My Lord, my Life, my Way, my End,
Accept the praise I bring.

Weak is the effort of my heart,
And cold my warmest thought;
But when I see Thee as Thou art,
I’ll praise Thee as I ought.

Till then I would Thy love proclaim
With every fleeting breath,
And may the music of Thy Name
Refresh my soul in death!
Funeral Service Hymns
March 7, 2018 By 0 Comments

ALL THINGS BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL

Words: Ce­cil F. Al­ex­an­der, Hymns for Lit­tle Child­ren, 1848. Alex­an­der is thought to have writ­ten these lyr­ics at Mark­ree Cas­tle, near Sli­go, Ire­land.

Music: Roy­al Oak, 17th Cen­tu­ry Eng­lish mel­o­dy; ar­ranged by Mar­tin F. Shaw, 1915. Al­ter­nate tunes:

  • Bright and Beau­ti­ful, Wil­liam H. Monk.
  • Gerald, Lud­wig Spohr, 1834.
  • Greystone, by W. R. Wag­horne, in Songs for Lit­tle Peo­ple (Dan­i­el­son and Co­nant: 1905).

Refrain

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful:
The Lord God made them all.

Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colors,
He made their tiny wings.

Refrain

[Most hymnals omit the following verse]

The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
He made them, high or lowly,
And ordered their estate.

Refrain

The purple headed mountains,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning
That brightens up the sky.

Refrain

The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.

Refrain

The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
To gather every day.

Refrain

He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.

Refrain
Funeral Service Hymns
March 7, 2018 By 0 Comments

ABIDE WITH ME

Words: Hen­ry F. Lyte, 1847.

Music: Eventide, Wil­liam H. Monk, 1861. Mrs. Monk de­scribed the set­ting:

This tune was writ­ten at a time of great sor­row—when to­ge­ther we watched, as we did dai­ly, the glo­ries of the set­ting sun. As the last gold­en ray fad­ed, he took some pa­per and pen­ciled that tune which has gone all over the earth.

Al­ter­nate tunes:

  • Abide with Me, Hen­ry Lyte, 1847.
  • Morecambe, Fred­er­ick C. At­kins­on, 1870.
  • Penitentia, Ed­ward Dearle, 1874.

Lyte was in­spired to write this hymn as he was dy­ing of tu­ber­cu­lo­sis; he fin­ished it the Sun­day he gave his fare­well ser­mon in the par­ish he served so ma­ny years. The next day, he left for Ita­ly to re­gain his health. He didn’t make it, though—he died in Nice, France, three weeks af­ter writ­ing these words. Here is an ex­cerpt from his fare­well ser­mon:

O breth­ren, I stand here among you to­day, as alive from the dead, if I may hope to im­press it upon you, and in­duce you to pre­pare for that sol­emn hour which must come to all, by a time­ly ac­quaint­ance with the death of Christ.

For over a cen­tu­ry, the bells of his church at All Saints in Low­er Brix­ham, De­von­shire, have rung out “Abide with Me” daily. The hymn was sung at the wed­ding of King George VI, at the wed­ding of his daugh­ter, the fu­ture Queen Eliz­a­beth II, and at the funeral of Nobel peace prize winner Mother Teresa of Calcutta in1997.

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, and thus bide with me.

Thou on my head in early youth didst smile;
And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile,
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee,
On to the close, O Lord, 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.
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