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Abide with Me
Hymn composed by
William Henry MonkContextual information
The text of this hymn was written by Henry Francis Lyte (1793-1847), a poet and vicar in England. For over two decades, Lyte served All Saints Church in Brixham, Devon (England)—a fishing village, where the families of fishermen were accustomed to grieving those lost at sea.
Lyte wrote (or completed) this text on his last Sunday as a vicar, in 1847, shortly before departing for a trip to Italy that he hoped would restore his poor health. It's reported that he began writing the text years earlier, at the bedside of someone on their deathbed.
Lyte never wrote a tune for his text. William Henry Monk (1823-1889) encountered "Abide with Me" and, realizing that no tune existed, wrote the music we know today.
This hymn appears as #101 in Singing the Living Tradition.
The text of this hymn was written by Henry Francis Lyte (1793-1847), a poet and vicar in England. For over two decades, Lyte served All Saints Church in Brixham, Devon (England)—a fishing village, where the families of fishermen were accustomed to grieving those lost at sea.
Lyte wrote (or completed) this text on his last Sunday as a vicar, in 1847, shortly before departing for a trip to Italy that he hoped would restore his poor health. It's reported that he began writing the text years earlier, at the bedside of someone on their deathbed.
Lyte never wrote a tune for his text. William Henry Monk (1823-1889) encountered "Abide with Me" and, realizing that no tune existed, wrote the music we know today.
This hymn appears as #101 in Singing the Living Tradition.
Tune Name
EVENTIDE
Tune Name
Text Meter
10.10.10.10.
10.9.10.9
Song Composer
William Henry MonkHymn Arranger
Composer Background information
Composer Website LinkSpiritual tags
Other tags
Lyricist Background information
Lyricist Website LinkArranger Background information
Arranger Website LinkLyrics
Abide with me, fast falls the eventide;
the darkness deepens; still with me abide.
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
help of the helpless, oh, 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 changes not, 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.
Resources
Music XML and MEI and MIDI and Musescore files