And oh! be near when, clothed with conquering power,
The King of Terrors claims his own dread hour:
When on the edge of that unknown abyss
Which darkly parts us from the realm of bliss,
Awe-struck alike the timid and the brave,
Alike subdued the monarch and the slave,
Must drink the cup of trembling[141]—when we see
Nought in the universe but Death and Thee,
Forsake us not! If still, when life was young,
Faith to thy bosom, as her home, hath sprung,