Old-Line Primitive Baptist Hymn and Tune Book

658 (C.M.)

Come my dear friends and mourn with me,

In my afflicted state,

I am bereaved, as you may see,

Of my dear loving mate.

Her heart was bound with mine by love,

Good works for to maintain;

But she is gone to Christ above,

Forever there to reign.

My loss is great – to lose my mate,

I'm like the lonesome dove,

I go alone and sigh and mourn,

My dear and absent love.

My children cry, no mother by

To take them on her knee;

The breach is great; it doth create

Much grief, as all may see.

But why should I lament my case,

Since God hath thought it best

To take her soul from hence away

To its eternal rest?

Since it is so, let sorrows go;

My God hath sent His rod.

He doth His will — I must be still,

And know that He is God.