Abide With Me

Henry F. Lyte (1793 - 1847) who is the author of this hymn was born in Scotland on June 1, 1793 and is almost always sung to the tune of "Eventide" set by William Henry Monk(1823-1889). The song was written in 1847 just before he died from tuberculosis in about three weeks on November 20, 1847 in Nice, France. The text for this hymn was inspired by the verse in Luke 24:29 - "Abide with us: for it is toward evening and the day is far spent." It was not widely used in England till 1850 when it was published in a book Lyte's Remains. It first appeared in the U.S. in 1885 in Henry Ward Beecher's Plymouth Collection and it was noted to be read and not sung. It was later discovered by Monk and was included in the first edition of the famous hymnal "Hymns Ancient and Modern" in 1861.
The hymn is a prayer for God to remain present with the speaker throughout life, through trials, and through death. The complete hymn is given below.

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 plea.
Come, Friend of sinners, thus abide 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.