Let your light shine wherever you go,
Someone is looking to you!
Brighter each day let it gleam and glow,
Someone is looking to you!

Refrain

Looking to you, yes, looking to you!
Let your light shine the darkness through;
O be faithful, be loyal, and true,
For someone is looking to you!

Someone is groping his way to God,
Someone is looking to you!
Following on where your feet have trod,
Someone is looking to you!

Refrain

Someone your counsel will surely take,
Someone is looking to you!
And by your life his decision make,
Someone is looking to you!

Refrain

Someone has almost accepted Him,
Someone is looking to you!
And may be lost if your light grows dim,
Someone is looking to you!

Refrain

Into the tent where a gypsy boy lay,
Dying alone at the close of the day,
News of salvation we carried; said he:
“Nobody ever has told it to me!”

Refrain

Tell it again! Tell it again!
Salvation’s story repeat o’er and o’er.
Till none can say of the children of men,
“Nobody ever has told me before.”

“Did He so love me, a poor little boy?
Send unto me the good tidings of joy?
Need I not perish? My hand will He hold?
Nobody ever the story has told!”

Refrain

Bending we caught the last words of his breath,
Just as he entered the valley of death:
“God sent His Son! ‘Whosoever,’ said He:
Then I am sure that He sent Him for me!”

Refrain

Smiling he said, as his last sigh he spent,
“I am so glad that for me He was sent!”
Whispered, while low sunk the sun in the west,
“Lord, I believe, tell it now to the rest!”

Refrain

When the storms of life surround me,
And the world seems dark and cold,
When the rain beats down upon me,
And the lightning stabs my soul,
I cry out to my Savior,
“Lord, help me, lest I die!
Do You care not that the billows
Push my boat toward the shoal?”

When the raging winds and tempest,
And the noxious clouds of sin,
Whirl around me like an army,
And my faith is wearing thin,
In a whispering distant thunder,
Comes a voice like morning calm:
“Fear not, I am with you ever,
Till the world shall see its end.

“I command the winds of heaven,
And the lightning does My will,
I Who walked upon the waters,
And Who bid the storm be still.
I seek not your destruction,
But to strengthen and make pure;
Keep your faith in Me, believing
I My promises fulfill.”

He is greater than the thunder,
He is mightier than the storm;
He extends His hand to lift me,
And protect my soul from harm.
He will see me safe to harbor,
To the haven of my rest,
Sheltered by the Rock of Ages,
Held in His almighty arm.

Jesu! speak to me in love,
Restless, storm tossed in my sin;
With Thy mighty voice, O Lord,
Thy great calm create within;
Bid the stormy winds to cease,
Bid, O bid me go in peace.

To Thee, Jesu, do I fly,
Wakened from my soul’s dread sleep;
None but Thou can save me, Lord,
In this hour of anguish deep;
Thou alone canst give release,
Bid, O bid me go in peace.

Weeping at Thy feet I fall,
Wearied, burdened, lonely, sad;
Thou dost bid me come, my Lord,
Thou alone canst make me glad;
Jesu, grant my soul release,
Bid, O bid me go in peace.

Boldly at Thy throne of grace,
Lord, I now forgiveness seek;
In Thy tender, pitying love
To my soul Thy pardon speak.
Jesu! make my anguish cease,
Bid, O bid me go in peace.

Prince of Peace! Who in Thy death
Didst for me the ransom pay,
Cleanse me in Thy precious blood,
Give to me Thy peace today.
Now, Lord, grant my soul release,
Now, Lord, bid me go in peace.

Belovèd, sleep,
Thy conflicts now are past,
Life’s battle fought, thy bliss begun,
And thou art crowned at last.

Rest, sweetly rest,
Thy tears are wiped away,
Thy sighing hushed, thy song begun,
And thine eternal day.

Sweet, dreamless sleep,
The Master said, “Well done!”
Thy weary head, upon His breast,
Reclined at set of sun.

We wait in hope
Till Jesus comes again;
We’ll meet thee then, to part to no more,
Beyond the reach of pain.

Belovèd, sleep.

Sleep on, belovèd, sleep, and take thy rest;
Lay down thy head upon the Savior’s breast;
We love thee well, but Jesus loves thee best—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Calm is thy slumber as an infant’s sleep;
But thou shalt wake no more to toil and weep;
Thine is a perfect rest, secure and deep—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Until the shadows from this earth are cast,
Until He gathers in His sheaves at last;
Until the twilight gloom be over past—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Until the Easter glory lights the skies,
Until the dead in Jesus shall arise,
And He shall come, but not in lowly guise—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Until, made beautiful by love divine,
Thou, in the likeness of thy Lord shalt shine,
And He shall bring that golden crown of thine—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Only “Good night,” belovèd—not “farewell!”
A little while, and all His saints shall dwell
In hallowed unison indivisible—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Until we meet again before His throne,
Clothed in the spotless robe He gives His own,
Until we know even as we are known—
Good night! Good night! Good night!

Silently the shades of evening
Gather round my lowly door;
Silently they bring before me
Faces I shall see no more.

O the lost, the unforgotten,
Though the world be oft forgot!
O the shrouded and the lonely,
In our hearts they perish not!

Living in the silent hours,
Where our spirits only blend,
They, unlinked with earthly trouble,
We, still hoping for its end.

How such holy memories cluster,
Like the stars when storms are past,
Pointing up to that fair heaven,
We may hope to gain at last.

Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb,
Take this new treasure to thy trust,
And give these sacred relics room
To seek a slumber in the dust;
And give these sacred relics room
To seek a slumber in the dust.

Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear
Invades thy bounds, no mortal woes,
Can reach the lovely sleeper here,
And angels watch her soft repose;
Can reach the lovely sleeper here,
And angels watch her soft repose.

So Jesus slept; God’s dying Son
Passed through the grave, and blessed the bed:
Rest here, fair saint, till from His throne
The morning break and pierce the shade;
Rest here, fair saint, till from His throne
The morning break and pierce the shade.

Break from His throne, illustrious morn!
Attend, O earth! His sovereign Word:
Restore thy trust: a glorious form
She must ascend to meet her Lord;
Restore thy trust: a glorious form
She must ascend to meet her Lord!

We cannot think of them as dead
Who walk with us no more;
Along the path of life we tread—
They have but gone before.

The Father’s house is mansioned fair
Beyond our vision dim;
All souls are His, and here or there
Are living unto Him.

But still their silent ministries
Within our hearts have place,
As when on earth they walked with us
And met us face to face.

Ours are they by an ownership
Nor time nor death can free;
For God hath given love to keep
Its own eternally.

Why do we mourn departing friends,
Or shake at death’s alarms?
’Tis but the voice that Jesus sends
To call them to His arms.

Are we not tending upward, too,
As fast as time can move?
Nor would we wish the hours more slow
To keep us from our love.

Why should we tremble to convey
Their bodies to the tomb?
There the dear flesh of Jesus lay,
And left a long perfume.

The graves of all His saints He blessed,
And softened every bed;
Where should the dying members rest,
But with the dying Head?

Thence He arose, ascending high,
And showed our feet the way;
Up to the Lord our flesh shall fly,
At the great rising day.

Then let the last loud trumpet sound,
And bid our kindred rise;
Awake, ye nations under ground;
Ye saints, ascend the skies.