Who contrite are, virtue revere,
Repent, and turn to Him in fear
And love, He ever chooseth.
He's true, and true doth aye abide,
In death's dark hour He's at our side,
When all from us recedeth;
He sootheth our last agony,
Up to the halls of bliss on high
In joy and trust He leadeth.
Oh! happy are the souls and bless'd,