Lord, when Thy king­dom comes, re­mem­ber me;
Thus spake the dy­ing lips to dy­ing ears;
O faith, which in that dark­est hour could see
The pro­mised glo­ry of the far off years!

No king­ly sign de­clares that glo­ry now,
No ray of hope lights up that aw­ful hour;
A thor­ny crown sur­rounds the bleed­ing brow,
The hands are stretched in weak­ness, not in pow­er.

Yet hear the word the dy­ing Sav­ior sa­ith,
Thou too shalt rest in pa­ra­dise to­day;
O words of love to an­swer words of faith!
O words of hope for those who live to pray!

Lord, when with dy­ing lips my pray­er is said,
Grant that in faith Thy king­dom I may see;
And, think­ing on Thy cross and bleed­ing head,
May breathe my part­ing words, Re­mem­ber me.

Remember me, but not my shame or sin;
Thy cleans­ing blood hath washed them all away;
Thy pre­cious death for me did par­don win;
Thy blood re­deemed me in that aw­ful day.

Remember me, yet how canst Thou for­get
What pain and ang­uish I have caused to Thee,
The cross, the ago­ny, the bloody sweat,
And all the sor­row Thou didst bear for me?

Remember me, and, ere I pass away,
Speak Thou th’as­sur­ing word that sets us free,
And make Thy pro­mise to my heart, To­day
Thou too shalt rest in pa­ra­dise with Me.