Words: , Hymns and Sac­red Po­ems, 1740.

From his death-bed at Cannes, in March, 1901, Will­iam Ar­thur sent a part­ing word to his old friend Dr. Rigg. ‘Give him this mess­age from me: The Lord crown­eth the year with His good­ness. He mak­eth the out­go­ings of the morn­ing and ev­en­ing to re­joice. What is called the “dark vall­ey” has not come to me in one stretch, but in a ser­ies of dis­con­nect­ed tunn­els. In each of these the out­er day is in­deed shut off, but a lamp with­in, kind­ling up, makes the dark­ness light. Whe­ther the tun­nel I am now in is the u­lti­mate or pe­nul­ti­mate I know not, for the her­alds of the way will not tell, but run be­fore, shout­ing, “The city hath no need of the sun, nei­ther of the moon, to shine it; for the glory of the Lord doth light­en it, and Lamb is the light there­of.” All I know is that the last tun­nel is on the east of the land of Beu­lah, to­wards the ris­ing of the Sun, and opens in the face of the Gold­en Gate where are the Shin­ing Ones. How far it is off I can­not tell. The ev­er­last­ing hills are co­vered with a gold­en haze. Glo­ry be to God!

Music: I Do Believe, Eng­lish mel­o­dy. Al­ter­nate tune:

• Martyrdom, , 1800; ar­ranged by , cir­ca 1885