We had this today because it was a Covenant heritage Sunday of some sort. We have had this at a few funerals in my family, and it will likely be at mine. So it's misty for me as well as for the old Swedes who grew up on it. (Despite my Swedish ancestry, I never heard this until my twenties.)
It puts me in mind of CS Lewis's introduction to JB Phillips' Letters To Young Churches, the first published portion of his New Testament paraphrase.
...it may seem a sour paradox - we must sometimes get away from the Authorised Version,* if for no other reason, but simply because it is so beautiful and so solemn. Beauty exalts, but beauty also lulls. Early associations endear but they also confuse. Through that beautiful solemnity the transporting or horrifying realities of which the Book tells may come to us blunted and disarmed and we may only sigh with tranquil veneration when we ought to be burning with shame or struck dumb with terror or carried out of ourselves by ravishing hopes and adorations.Exactly what happened to me. I thought of my mother, of my Great Aunt Selma Nordstrom, of cute children being taught this in Sunday School, and of Swede Nelson and Lois Palmquist singing this a few pews away. I didn't think of the Heavenly Father once, until just at the end when I realised what was happening.
*What we would call the King James Version.