Abide With Me, Lord
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
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
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
——
Good Friday.
The sky darkens on Golgotha. The crowd has thinned. The soldiers have departed.
The lamb hangs breathless, bleeding from his side.
This is the moment of agony, the weight of a world’s sin crushing the breath from his lungs, the stinging taste of vinegar driving the moisture from his mouth.
Death is near.
In his sorrow, in this place of death, he cries out: “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”
The earth holds its breath.
“Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”
This is the Son’s final act of unbroken faith.
He only asks this:
Abide with me.
The hymn knows this cry.
Fast falls the eventide; the darkness deepens—Lord, with me abide.
This is the Gospel: not that our suffering is spared, but that it is taken fully by Christ.
God does not look away from agony—He bears it for us. He dies for us.
Evening falls on Golgotha. The shadows stretch long, and the sun vanishes. The light of the world flickers in his final moments, and still—He does not demand rescue. He asks for presence, for the Father’s nearness.
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, help of the helpless, abide with me.
John stands alone beneath the cross, and Mary weeps.
Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day, Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away.
The Son of God breathes his last. The blood clots on his side, where the spear did run him through. The thorny crown rests on his head.
Change and decay in all around I see; O Thou who changest not, abide with me.
Here, fixed between two thieves, hangs the one thing that never dies. Perfect love. Perfect salvation, for all mankind.
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless; Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Christ has tasted death; He has borne the weight of the world’s sins. Come Sunday, He will have conquered death itself.
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.
The stone will roll back, and the light will return. And through it all, the Lord God abides. But Good Friday ends in silence, in sorrow.