
Grace Livingston Hill included a number of what must have been her favorite hymns within her storylines. Many of them were written over a century ago and are no longer heard in the churches of today.
Locating those hymns is not always easy, especially when she only uses a line or two to further the plot. When we find a hymn, we offer them here for you to "see" and "hear" what Grace did when adding many of them to her characters' lives. This is a work in progress. If you'd like to help fill in the blanks, This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.
All hymns are in the Public Domain and may be freely copied and distributed.
CLICK A HYMN TITLE BELOW FOR WORDS & MUSIC AND OTHER FACTS
Found in "April Gold" (Chapter 8), "Because of Stephen" (Chapter 11), "The City of Fire" (Chapter 13), and "A Voice in the Wilderness" (Page 110)
Words by Henry F. Lyte, 1847 • Music, "Eventide" by William H. Monk, 1861
Click to listen~Right click to download MIDI
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, and thus bide 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.