1 Must friends and kindred drop and die? And helpers be withdrawn? While sorrow with a weeping eye Counts up our comforts gone?
2 Be thou our comfort, mighty God! Our helper and our friend: Nor leave us in this dangerous road, Till all our trials end.
3 O may our feet pursue the way Our pious fathers led! With love and holy zeal obey The counsels of the dead.
4 Let us be wean'd from all below, Let hope our grief expel, While death invites our souls to go Where our best kindred dwell.