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LDS Farewell Hymns

By: Amy Tanner Thiriot - November 25, 2012

1835 Emma Smith Hymnal, Hymn 49.

1 – The gallant ship is under way,
To bear me off to sea,
And yonder float the streamers gay,
That say she waits for me.
The seamen dip their ready oar,
As ebbing waves oft tell—
They bear me swiftly from the shore:
My native land farewell.

2 – I go but not to plough the main
To ease a restless mind,
Nor do I toil on battle’s plain
The victor’s wreath to twine.
‘Tis not for treasures that are hid
In mountain or in dell!
‘Tis not for joys like these I bid
My native land farewell.

3 – I go to break the fowler’s snare,
To gather Israel home:
I go the name of Christ to bear
In lands and isles unknown.
And when my pilgrim feet shall tread
On land where darkness dwells,
Where light and truth have long since fled
My native land farewell.

4 – I go an erring child of dust,
Ten thousand foes among;
Yet on His mighty arm I trust
That makes the feeble strong—
My sun, my shield, forever nigh,
He will my fears dispel:
This hope supports me when I sigh—
My native land farewell.

5 – I go devoted to his cause,
And to his will resign’d;
His presence will supply the loss
Of all I leave behind.
His promise cheers the sinking heart,
And lights the darkest cell,
To exil’d pilgrims grace imparts—
My native land farewell.

6 – I go because my master calls;
He’s made my duty plain—
No danger can the heart appal
When Jesus stoops to reign!
And now the vessel’s side we’ve made;
The sails their bosoms swell:
Thy beauties in the distance fade—
My native land farewell.

1833 Reformed Methodist Hymnal, Hymn 355. The Missionary’s Farewell.

The gallant ship is under way,
That bears me out to sea;
And yonder float the streams so gay,
That say they wait for me.
The seaman dips his ready oar;
Oft ebbing waves do tell,
I must not linger on the shore:
My native land, farewell!

2 – I go, but not to plough the main,
To ease a restless mind;
Nor do I pant on battle plains
The vict’ry wreath to twine;
‘Tis not for treasures that are hid
In mountains or in dells:
‘Tis not for joys like these, I bid
My native land farewell!

3 – I go to break the fowler’s snare,
To shake the tyrant’s throne:
I go the name of Christ to bear,
Where Satan reigns alone.
And when my pilgrim feet shall stand,
Where doubts and darkness dwell,
Dear land of light, my heart shall say,
My native land, farewell!

4 – I go, an erring child of dust;
Ten thousand foes around;
He whose arm is all my trust,
Can make the feeble strong:
My Sun, my Shield, for ever nigh,
All darkness to dispel:
This hope supports me while I sigh,
My native land, farewell!

5 – I go, devoted to his cross,
And to his will resign’d:
His presence will supply the loss
Of all I leave behind.
His presence cheers me while I go,
And lights the darkest cell:
His presence gilds the exile’s lot!
O native land, farewell!

6 – I go, because my Master calls,
To leave my native shore;
I’ll go, to see fair Zion rise,
Her King for to adore;
And, when I pass the vale of death,
On Canaan’s shore I’ll tell
How Jesus sav’d me by his power:
My native land, farewell!

1843 Richard Huie (original author) version, Sacred Lyrics.

The gallant ship is under weigh,
Which bears me off to sea;
And yonder floats the streamer gay,
Which says it waits for me.
The seaman dips his ready oar,
Of ebbing waves to tell;
I must not linger on the shore;
My native land, farewell!

I go, but not to plough the main,
To ease a restless mind;
Nor do I pant on battle plain
The victor’s wreath to bind.
I shall not search, for treasures hid,
The mountain, or the fell;
‘Tis not for joys like these I bid
My native land, farewell!

I go, to burst the Fowler’s snare,
To shake the Tempter’s throne;
I go, the name of Christ to bear,
Where Satan rules alone.
But while my pilgrim feet shall stray
Where doubt and darkness dwell,
Dear land of light (my heart shall say),
My native land, farewell!

I go, an erring child of dust,
A thousand foes among;
Yet, in His gracious aid I trust,
Who makes the feeble strong.
My shade, my shield, for ever nigh,
He shall my fears dispel;
That hope supports me while I sigh,
My native land, farewell!

I go, devoted to His Cross,
And to His will resign’d;
His presence shall supply the loss
Of all I leave behind.
His presence cheers the lonely cot,
And lights the darkest cell;
His presence gilds the exile’s lot:
My native land, farewell!

I go, because my Master’s call
Has made the duty plain;
No dangers e’er the heart appal
Where Jesus stoops to reign.—
But now we gain the vessel’s side,
The sails their bosoms swell;
Thy beauties into distance glide,
My native land, farewell!

1835 Emma Smith Hymnal, Hymn 51.

1 – Yes, my native land, I love thee,
All thy scenes I love them well,
Friends, connexions, happy country!
Can I bid you all farewell?
Can I leave thee—
Far in distant lands to dwell?

2 – Home! thy joys are passing lovely;
Joys no stranger-heart can tell!
Happy home! ’tis sure I love thee!
Can I—can I—say Farewell?
Can I leave thee—
Far in distant lands to dwell?

3 – Holy scenes of joy and gladness,
Ev’ry fond emotion swell,
Can I banish heart-felt sadness
While I bid my home farewell?
Can I leave thee—
Far in distant lands to dwell?

4 – Yes! I hasten from you gladly,
From the scenes I love so well!
Far away, ye billows, bear me:
Lovely, native land farewell!
Pleas’d I leave thee—
Far in distant lands to dwell.

5 – In the deserts let me labor,
On the mountains let me tell,
How he died—the blessed Savior—
To redeem a world from hell!
Let me hasten,
Far in distant lands to dwell.

6 – Bear me on, thou restless ocean;
Let the winds my canvass swell—
Heaves my heart with warm emotion,
While I go far hence to dwell,
Glad I bid thee,
Native land!—FAREWELL—FAREWELL.

Return to Did Cyrus Wheelock write “My Native Land, Farewell”?



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