When death shall call for me?
When I shall rest beneath the sod,
Shall angels bear my soul to God?
O, Savior! can it be?
Exceeding grace! I raise my eyes,
All wet with tear-drops, to the skies,
And bless thee for thy love;
I would not always dwell below,
Where death has torn my heartstrings so;
’Twill ne’er be thus above.