|Location in The Sacred Harp|
So fades the lovely blooming flow’r,
Frail, smiling solace of an hour!
So soon our transient comforts fly,
And pleasure only blooms to die.
Distress 32b, Stanza 1
Distress 50b, Stanza 1
To certain trouble we are born,
Hope to rejoice, but sure to mourn;
Ah, wretched effort! Sade relief!
To plead necessity of grief!
Is there no kind, no lenient art,
To heal the anguish of the heart?
To ease the heavy load of care
Which nature must, but dreads to bear?
Distress 32b, Stanza 2
Distress 50b, Stanza 2
Can reason’s dictates be obey’d?
Too weak, alas! her strongest aid;
O let religion then be nigh!
Her consolations never die.
Her pow’rful aid supports the soul,
And nature owns her kind control;
Whilst she unfolds the sacred page,
Our fiercest griefs resign their rage.
Then gentle patience smiles on pain,
And dying hope revives again;
Hope wipes the tear from sorrow’s eye,
And faith points upward to the sky.
Distress 32b, Stanza 3
Distress 50b, Stanza 3
The promise guides her ardent flight,
And joys, unknown to sense, invite,
Those blissful regions to explore,
Where pleasure blooms, to fade no more.