Though I walk the downward shade,

Deepening through the vail of death,

Yet I will not be afraid,

But, with my departing breath,

I will glory in my God,

In my Saviour I will trust,

Strengthened by his staff and rod,

While this body falls to dust.

2 Soon on wings, on wings of love,

My transported soul shall rise,

Like the home-returning dove,

Vanishing through boundless skies:

Then, where death shall be no more,

Sin nor suffering e’er molest,

All my days of mourning o’er,

In his presence I shall rest.