Author of the Lyrics
The author of the edifying
words of the "Abide with Me " lyrics, Henry Francis Lyte (June 1, 1793-November 20, 1847),
was born in the village of Ednam, near Kelso, in Scotland and
achieved fame as a theological writer, hymn writer and poet.
Composer of Hymn Music
The composer of the
music that accompanies the
words of "Abide with Me ", William H. Monk (March 16, 1823-March 1, 1889),
was born in London, England and
became famous as a singing teacher, music director and musical editor for Hymns Ancient and Modern.
Information about the
Title of Hymn: Abide with Me
Author of Lyrics (Hymnist): Henry Francis Lyte (June 1, 1793
to November 20, 1847)
Nationality of Author:
Translator of the Hymn
lyrics: N/A Hymn written in English
Name of Composer of Music: William H. Monk (March 16, 1823 to
March 1, 1889)
Hymn Category: Favorite and Patriotic Songs
First Line of Hymn: "Abide with me! Fast falls the eventide"
First Publication Date:
Abide with Me Lyrics
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 pleaŚ
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.