"When round my dying bed ye stand,
And kiss my cheek and clasp my hand,
Oh, whisper in my failing ear
The only Name I care to hear,--
The only Name that has the power
To comfort in the dying hour.
"Let neither sob nor sigh be heard,
But still repeat that sacred word,--
Until the solace it imparts
Descends like balm upon your hearts,
And I in triumph gladly sing:
'O dreaded Death, where is thy sting?'
"And when released from sin and clay
My happy spirit soars away,
And pauses at the heavenly gate,
Where saints and smiling angels wait,
And views the city bright and fair,--
That Name shall be my passport there!
"Oh then, in calm and holy trust,
Give my poor body to the dust--
Assured that God will guard the clay
Until the Resurrection Day,
When he on whom my soul relies
In thunder tones will bid me rise.
"Amid the earth-devouring storm,
Made like my Saviour's glorious form,
Redeemed from sickness, death, and pain,
I shall awake to life again;
And soul and body both shall be
With Christ throughout eternity."