Sweet Singers of Wales

My race beneath the sun

Is very nearly run;

Life fades away in sad decay,

Soon shall my day be done:

My fragile tent is sorely rent,

My strength is spent well-nigh;

The hour is near--I must appear

In doubt and fear within the clear

Immortal sphere on high.

Grant, Lord, Thy peace to me,

And Thy dear face to see;

Before my day has passed away,

All sinless may I be!

Thy gracious light in death's dark night

Shall soon my fright dispel:

In Thy right hand on yonder strand,

Where fears disband my soul shall stand--

Sweet land! where all is well!