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And helpers be withdrawn?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.