Death, 'tis a melancholy day,
To those who have no God,
When the poor soul is forced away,
To seek her last abode.
In vain to heaven she lifts her eyes,
For guilt, a heavy chain,
Still drags her downward from the skies,
To darkness, fire, and pain.
Awake and mourn, ye heirs of hell,
Let stubborn sinners fear;
You must be driven from earth, and dwell
A long for ever there.
See how the pit gapes wide for you,
And flashes in your face;
And thou, my soul, look downward too,
And sing recovering grace.
He is a God of sovereign love,
That promised heaven to me,
And taught my thoughts to soar above,
Where happy spirits be.
Prepare me, Lord, for thy right hand,
Then come the joyful day;
Come, death, and some celestial band,
To bear my soul away.