49 lines
3.1 KiB
HTML
49 lines
3.1 KiB
HTML
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<title>BLB Hymns</title>
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<h2>AT EVEN, ERE THE SUN WAS SET</h2><p align="center">
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<h3>“That evening after sunset the people brought to Jesus all the sick and demon-possessed. The whole town gathered at the door, and Jesus healed many who had various diseases.” Mark 1:32-34</h3>
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<center><b>Hymns Supplied Through the Gracious Generosity<br>of the </b><a href="http://www.hymntime.com/tch/" target = "_blank"><b>Cyber Hymnal Website</b></a><br><br><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/cyberhymnal_info.html" target = "_blank">Information about Cyber Hymnal Website</a></center>
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<p><img src="./hymns/hymns_img/img_t_w_twells_h.jpg" align="right" alt="Henry Twells (1823-1900)" hspace="15" vspace="5" width="119.333333333333" height="168"><em>Words:</em> <a href="./hymns/hymns_bio/bio_t_w_twells_h.html" target="_blank">Henry Twells</a>, 1868. This hymn was written in a school classroom. A student was busy writing an examination, and was <em>long</em> at it. Twells, the instructor, had to stay until the fellow was done. It was late afternoon, and the sun was beginning to drop below the horizon.
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As Twells gazed out the window, his thoughts turned to the story of Jesus healing the sick, and in that setting he wrote these words.</p>
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<p><em>Music:</em> “Angelus,” Georg Joseph, <em>Heilige Seelenlust</em>, 1657 </p><p><table><tr><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_mid/mid_a_angelus.mid" target = "_blank"><img border=0 src="./hymns/hymns_img/notes.gif"><br><b>Play MIDI</b></a></td><td> </td><td><a href="./hymns/hymns_html/score_info.html" target = "_blank"><b>Link to obtain<br>musical score info</b></a></td></tr></table></p>
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<div class="lyrics">
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<p>At even, ere the sun was set,<br>
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The sick, O Lord, around Thee lay;<br>
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O, with how many pains they met!<br>
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O, with what joy they went away!</p>
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<p>Once more ’tis eventide, and we,<br>
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Oppressed with various ills, draw near;<br>
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What if Thyself we cannot see?<br>
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We know that Thou art ever near.</p>
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<p>O Savior Christ, our woes dispel;<br>
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For some are sick, and some are sad;<br>
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And some have never loved Thee well,<br>
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And some have lost the love they had.</p>
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<p>And some are pressed with worldly care<br>
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And some are tried with sinful doubt;<br>
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And some such grievous passions tear,<br>
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That only Thou canst cast them out.</p>
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<p>And none, O Lord, have perfect rest,<br>
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For none are wholly free from sin;<br>
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And they who fain would serve Thee best<br>
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Are conscious most of wrong within.</p>
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<p>O Savior Christ, Thou too art man;<br>
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Thou has been troubled, tempted, tried;<br>
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Thy kind but searching glance can scan<br>
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The very wounds that shame would hide.</p>
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<p>Thy touch has still its ancient power.<br>
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No word from Thee can fruitless fall;<br>
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Hear, in this solemn evening hour,<br>
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And in Thy mercy heal us all.</p>
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