also had composed a tune of his own for the words,
but this never came into general use.

During the following week Lyte left his beloved England for Italy.
However, he got no farther than Nice, in France, where he was obliged to
discontinue his journey. Here he passed away November 20 of the same
year. His last words were, "Joy! Peace!" and then he fell asleep.

A little cross marks his grave in the English cemetery at Nice, for he
was buried there. Every year hundreds of pilgrims visit his grave and
tell touching stories of how Lyte's hymn brought them to faith in Christ
Jesus.

It was Lyte's life-long wish that he might leave behind him such a hymn
as this. In an earlier poem he had voiced the longing that he might write

Some simple strain, some spirit-moving lay,
Some sparklet of the soul that still might live
When I was passed to clay....

O Thou! whose touch can lend
Life to the dead, Thy quick'ning grace supply,
And grant me, swanlike, my last breath to spend
In song that may not die!

Lyte's prayer was fulfilled. As long as men shall worship the crucified
and risen Lord, so long will they continue to sing the sad and beautiful
words of Lyte's swan song.

In Lyte we have a hymn-writer of the first rank. Indeed, he is comparable
to any of England's greatest hymnists, not excepting Watts or Wesley. His
hymns are real lyrics, Scriptural in language, rich in imagery, and
exalted in poetic conception. "In no other author," says an eminent
authority, "is poetry and religion more exquisitely united."

Aside from the sublime hymn we have mentioned, Lyte has given to the
Church such noble lyrics as "Jesus, I my cross have taken," "Pleasant are
Thy courts above," "Praise, my soul, the King of heaven," "God of mercy,
God of grace," "My spirit on Thy care," "As pants the hart for cooling
streams," and "O that the Lord's salvation." The latter hymn is one of
the few ever written that voice a prayer for the salvation of Israel.

The poetic rapture to which Lyte's poetry sometimes rises is most
beautifully reflected in his hymn of adoration:

Praise, my soul, the King of heaven;
To His feet thy tribute bring;
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Who like thee His praise should sing?
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Praise the everlasting King!

Praise Him for His grace and favor
To our fathers in distress;
Praise Him, still the same as e