When Lying On The Bed Of Pain
When lying on the bed of pain,
And earth and all its joys are vain,
How sweet, my God to know Thy pow’r
Sustains me in this trying hour.
I would Thy holy Word obey
E’en while upon my bed I lie;
I call the elders here, O Lord,
To do according to Thy Word.
And while the oil’s by faith applied,
o may my soul be sanctified
By the blest unction from above,
And then be filled with heav’nly love.
Then shall my cheerful, grateful tongue
In rap’trous strains Thy praise prolong.
My ransom’d soul adore Thy grace
And swifter run the heav’nly race.
Or should my days be near their end,
and I through death my steps must wend,
Then, O my Lord, receive me home,
To mingle with the blood washed throng.