Help of the Helpless

1. 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, oh, abide with me.
2. 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.
3. I need Thy presence every passing hour;
   What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s pow’r?
   Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
   Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.
4. 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.
5. Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
   Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies;
   Heav’n’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
   In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.'

I have no words.  So I borrow  these from Henry F. Lyte, mid-eighteen hundreds.

Would I, COULD I say, "Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness"?

O Lord, abide with them.  Abide with me!