Printed by Johnson, 7 North Tenth Street.
Lovely star so pure and bright,
What dost thou seem to say?
Is there a world of heavenly light,
Beyond thy shining ray?
What mighty power hast thou there,
Above this world so high?
’Tis that same hand that guides me here,
That placed thee in the sky.
That hand protects me on the deep,
Amid the tempest’s roar;
It lulls the raging seas to sleep,
And brings me safely o’er.
Dispel my heart those gloomy fears,
And dry thy weeping eyes,
And look beyond this vale of tears,
To world’s beyond the skies.
Bright star so lovely pure and chaste,
Thou bidst me still hope on,
Until I reach that heavenly place,
Where my dear friend has gone.
That hand was there her strength and stay,
When death had glazed her eyes,
And led her on to endless day,
To bliss beyond the skies.
And now she’s clothed in white array,
And joined the saints above,
Upon the golden harp to play,
And sing redeeming love.
Why need I mourn oppressed with grief,
Whilst here on earth I stay?
Dear Saviour help my unbelief,
And teach me how to pray.
Oh? fill my soul with strength divine,
Whilst here on earth I roam,
To bear my grief and not repine,
Until I reach my home.
My race may now be nearly run,
My lamp be burning low,
I may not see another sun
Light up a scene of woe.
Stand by me, oh, my Saviour stand!
When friends, a faithful few,
May not be near to press my hand,
And weep a last adieu.
Beyond this sphere of sin and woe,
I fain would be at rest;
No more to wander to and fro,
Unholy and unblessed.
My sisters dear, though far away,
Oh shall we meet again!
Still for the long lost wanderer pray,
While on the stormy main.
Go on! go on! ye heirs of grace,
I’ll try and follow too,
I fain would join the heavenly race,
And go along with you.
Still pray for me my sisters dear,
And I myself will try
Again to seek the Lord with prayer,
And meet you in the sky.
With prayer thou’ll win the heavenly race.
For heaven is gained by prayer;
And I a sinner saved by grace,
Still hope to meet thee there.