One of the lovliest hymns / songs that I know is:
Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore
Never tired pilgrims limbs affected slumbe more,
Then my weary sprightly now longs to flye out of my troubled breast.
O come quickly, sweetest Lord and take my soul to rest.
Ever blooming are the joyes of Heavens high paradise
Cold age deafes not there our eares, nor vapour dims our eyes;
Glory there the sun outshines, whose beames the. Lesser see;
O come quickly, glorious Lord and raise my spright to thee.
It is from The First Book of Ayres (c1613) by Thomas Campion. I have a lovely recording of it sunk by Michael Chance with Nigel North playing the lute.
I've chosen it for one of my funeral hymns.