wi­ther­ing

The phrase "wi­ther­ing" resonates through 20 hymns, touching hearts across generations.

wi­ther­ing· 20 hymns found
Hymn Context Compare
The hills their fix­èd seat for­sake;
Youth blos­soms to the breeze,
There ev­er­last­ing spring abides,
Descending to the tomb.
Let Sun­day’s sweet re­fresh­ing dew
Them and their works ab­hor­red;
Beneath a burn­ing sky,
Pale fa­mine lifts at His co­mmand,
With all its toil and care;
Beneath the burn­ing sky!
The flow­ers be­neath the mow­er’s hand
My flesh shall be Thy care;
Although the ol­ive yield no oil,
What will you do when light de­parts,
And faith is at its ebb,
And sink­ing in des­pair.
“In thine? I’ve watched thy scorn­ful smile,
Where the love that here we lav­ish
While it yet held, ab­horred:
That cursed thy wea­ry land;

wi­ther­ing

The stars with­draw their fee­ble light.
Man like a sha­dow flees.
Death, like a nar­row sea, di­vides
Scarce whis­pers from the tree;
Let Sab­bath joys our strength re­new,
They spurned with one ac­cord;
And on­ly grows to die.
The har­vests per­ish at her breath,
Its fie­ry noon­day glare.
And ev­ery plant must die.
Our God, our help in ag­es past,
To raise them strong and fair.
The field elude the til­ler’s toil,
Without one beam to cheer your hearts,
Help, God of might,
Burnt with ex­cess­ive heat;
Whene’er the Christ­ian’s hum­ble hope
Shall have fade­less flow­ers to fix on
They spurned with one ac­cord:
His blood up­on thy hand?

...The hills their fix­èd seat for­sake;

And, wi­ther­ing, from the vault of night

The stars with­draw their fee­ble light....

HymnC

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The hills their fix­èd seat for­sake;

And, wi­ther­ing, from the vault of night

The stars with­draw their fee­ble light.

The Lord Will Come! The Earth Shall Quake

...Youth blos­soms to the breeze,

Age, wi­ther­ing age, is cropped ere night;

Man like a sha­dow flees....

HymnC

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Youth blos­soms to the breeze,

Age, wi­ther­ing age, is cropped ere night;

Man like a sha­dow flees.

Few, Few and Evil Are Thy Days

...There ev­er­last­ing spring abides,

And nev­er wi­ther­ing flow­ers:

Death, like a nar­row sea, di­vides...

HymnC

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There ev­er­last­ing spring abides,

And nev­er wi­ther­ing flow­ers:

Death, like a nar­row sea, di­vides

There Is a Land of Pure Delight

...Descending to the tomb.

The winds breathe low, the wi­ther­ing leaf

Scarce whis­pers from the tree;...

HymnC

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Descending to the tomb.

The winds breathe low, the wi­ther­ing leaf

Scarce whis­pers from the tree;

Behold the Western Evening Light

...Let Sun­day’s sweet re­fresh­ing dew

All wi­ther­ing cares dis­pel;

Let Sab­bath joys our strength re­new,...

HymnC

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Let Sun­day’s sweet re­fresh­ing dew

All wi­ther­ing cares dis­pel;

Let Sab­bath joys our strength re­new,

This Day in Jesus’ Name We Meet

...Them and their works ab­hor­red;

Its wi­ther­ing flow­ers still

They spurned with one ac­cord;...

HymnC

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Them and their works ab­hor­red;

Its wi­ther­ing flow­ers still

They spurned with one ac­cord;

The Triumphs of the Saints

...Beneath a burn­ing sky,

The worth­less bram­ble wi­ther­ing stands,

And on­ly grows to die....

HymnC

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Beneath a burn­ing sky,

The worth­less bram­ble wi­ther­ing stands,

And on­ly grows to die.

As Parchèd in the Barren Sands

...Pale fa­mine lifts at His co­mmand,

Her wi­ther­ing arm, and blasts the land;

The har­vests per­ish at her breath,...

HymnC

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Pale fa­mine lifts at His co­mmand,

Her wi­ther­ing arm, and blasts the land;

The har­vests per­ish at her breath,

To God Most Awful and Most High

...With all its toil and care;

Its wi­ther­ing mid­night blast,

Its fie­ry noon­day glare....

HymnC

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With all its toil and care;

Its wi­ther­ing mid­night blast,

Its fie­ry noon­day glare.

Hush! Blessèd Are the Dead

...Beneath the burn­ing sky!

And all her pro­duct wi­ther­ing stands,

And ev­ery plant must die....

HymnC

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Beneath the burn­ing sky!

And all her pro­duct wi­ther­ing stands,

And ev­ery plant must die.

Lord, Look on This, Our Panting Earth!

...The flow­ers be­neath the mow­er’s hand

Lie wi­ther­ing ere ‘tis night.

Our God, our help in ag­es past,...

HymnC

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The flow­ers be­neath the mow­er’s hand

Lie wi­ther­ing ere ‘tis night.

Our God, our help in ag­es past,

Our God, Our Help in Ages Past

...My flesh shall be Thy care;

These wi­ther­ing limbs with Thee I trust,

To raise them strong and fair....

HymnC

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My flesh shall be Thy care;

These wi­ther­ing limbs with Thee I trust,

To raise them strong and fair.

God of My Childhood and My Youth

...Although the ol­ive yield no oil,

The wi­ther­ing fig-tree droop and die,

The field elude the til­ler’s toil,...

HymnC

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Although the ol­ive yield no oil,

The wi­ther­ing fig-tree droop and die,

The field elude the til­ler’s toil,

Away, My Unbelieving Fear!

...What will you do when light de­parts,

And leaves your wi­ther­ing eyes,

Without one beam to cheer your hearts,...

HymnC

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What will you do when light de­parts,

And leaves your wi­ther­ing eyes,

Without one beam to cheer your hearts,

Children, to Your Creator, God

...And faith is at its ebb,

And hope is wi­ther­ing!

Help, God of might,...

HymnC

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And faith is at its ebb,

And hope is wi­ther­ing!

Help, God of might,

Hymn of the Last Days

...And sink­ing in des­pair.

My spir­its flag like wi­ther­ing grass

Burnt with ex­cess­ive heat;...

HymnC

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And sink­ing in des­pair.

My spir­its flag like wi­ther­ing grass

Burnt with ex­cess­ive heat;

Hear Me O God, nor Hide Thy Face

...“In thine? I’ve watched thy scorn­ful smile,

And heard thy wi­ther­ing tone,

Whene’er the Christ­ian’s hum­ble hope...

HymnC

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“In thine? I’ve watched thy scorn­ful smile,

And heard thy wi­ther­ing tone,

Whene’er the Christ­ian’s hum­ble hope

The Infidel and His Daughter

...Where the love that here we lav­ish

On the wi­ther­ing leaves of time

Shall have fade­less flow­ers to fix on...

HymnC

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Where the love that here we lav­ish

On the wi­ther­ing leaves of time

Shall have fade­less flow­ers to fix on

The Meeting Place

...While it yet held, ab­horred:

Its wi­ther­ing flow­ers that still

They spurned with one ac­cord:...

HymnC

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While it yet held, ab­horred:

Its wi­ther­ing flow­ers that still

They spurned with one ac­cord:

The Merits of the Saints

...That cursed thy wea­ry land;

His tear up­on thy wi­ther­ing plain,

His blood up­on thy hand?...

HymnC

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That cursed thy wea­ry land;

His tear up­on thy wi­ther­ing plain,

His blood up­on thy hand?

Judah Restored

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