Short seem'd the step down to the awful grave,
Where ev'ry vig'rous limb all stiffen'd lies,
And greedy worms in us hold revelries,
While weeds and grasses o'er my bed shall wave.
This world of ours, built up so beauteous, brave,
Must it be faded ever from my eyes?
Shall my dull ear hear no sweet symphonies?
And from this dreaded doom can naught me save?
Naught sav'd me but thy pow'r, O God of love!
I live again: to Thee be all the praise;
And let me live with heart on things above,
As one, in all things whom thy Spirit sways;
So serving Christ, as sure to me 'tis given
To see him in a brighter world――in heaven!