Verse 1
Bleeding from their bosom rent,
Might they not a saint lament?
From the flock by violence torn,
Might they not a Shepherd mourn?
Verse 2
Free from nature’s fond excess
Thus we may our grief express
Thus a parted friend deplore,
Griev’d for them that grieve no more.
Verse 3
Chiefly, when the Lord of all
Doth his instruments recall,
Miss we our instructors here,
Mourn a ravish’d minister;
Verse 4
Deeply, justly sensible,
Then the general loss we feel,
Testify our grateful love
Weep for one who sings above.